Wicked Intent
by Fortuna90
Summary: Sam and Dean take a case in Wyoming, where men are mysteriously disappearing into the woods, never to be seen again. The angels believe they have found a way to reopen the gates of heaven. Meanwhile, Castiel faces trouble of his own. Set after 9x13, probably will end up being AU. Rated T for language, some violence.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Wicked Intent

* * *

><p><em>Summary: Sam and Dean take a case in Wyoming, where men are disappearing mysteriously in the woods, never to be seen again. The angels believe they have found a way to reopen the gates of heaven. Meanwhile, Castiel faces trouble of his own. Set after 9x13, probably will end up being AU.<em>

_A/N: This story is co-written by two authors. It's a work in progress, though the first chapters are almost complete and edited. Please remember, reviews are very much appreciated! We hope you enjoy the story!_

_Disclaimer: We don't own Supernatural, or any of its contents. We don't own anything you recognise, just borrowed it for a bit of creative practice. All mistakes are ours. We make no profit from writing this story._

_Warnings: Language mostly, and violence_

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

* * *

><p>Somewhere in the icy, barren mountains that formed the wintery landscape of Svalbard's second largest island, commonly known as the Nordaustlandet, a lone figure stood raised against the winds battering the rocks. Snow whirled up around him, but it did not seem to bother the individual walking these lands. He was on a mission, and it had led him here, to the edge of a world, where nothing survived save for the few mammals strong enough to brace the cold. The white colour of the snow around him would be deemed blinding to the mortal eye, yet he did not even blink as his eyes sought out one particular spot in the land: a dark blemish that rose up in the land just ahead, a smudge of colour oddly out of place in all whiteness around him.<p>

The individual was wearing a light coat that was simply not made for these kinds of weather. His footsteps were light and sure as he made his way to the cave. He was alert for any noises around him, save the howling wind. It was vital to him that he should remain alone. Any sound could indicate an interruption by others, and his mission might fail as a consequence. To him, that simply was not an option.

The inside of the cave was dark and damp. The wind seemed less loud, the further the figure descended in the cavern. A drawing on one of the walls, barely visible in the fading light, made him pause for a moment. It seemed he was in the right place, he mused as he examined the symbol.

The figure continued on, further and further down into the cave. He seemed to know intuitively which way to turn, which twirling and twisting passage was the right one. Finally the road he took came to an end; in a small, rounded chamber which almost appeared to be manmade. The individual knew better though. For ages, small droplets of water had been exuding past the stone, creating cracks in the rock and eventually forming the chamber as it stayed now. This deep in the cavern no natural light should have penetrated. Nature though never ceased to amaze the figure standing in the chamber, for a small, round hole had been formed at the roof of the chamber, allowing a small beam of daylight to shine down upon the middle of the cavern. Light small snowflakes drifted down lazily in the light, and had the figure been a lesser being he would have stared up in childlike wonder. However, he was not and he still had a mission to fulfil, he reminded himself.

For there, in the centre of the chamber, caught in the small bundle of daylight, rested a stone, which had not been touched since the forming of the chamber. Where all other rocks had long since eroded away, this stone had remained. Whereas time changed its surroundings, the stone remained eternal as though some kind of magic had prevented it from taking its natural course.

The figure moved forward swiftly and, after having made sure he still was alone, ran a finger reverently over the stone. At once, a hush seemed to descend over the chamber. Even the howling winds outside seemed muted. The figure smiled at last and disappeared, taking the stone with him. Had anyone been around to bear witness to the act, they would only have heard the soft fluttering of wings echoing through the cave as evidence of an angel ever having been there.

Thousands of miles away, in a cave not unlike the other, an ancient being awakened.

* * *

><p>The man had been running for a long time. He was tired, but did not dare to stop. His feet pounded the floor in rhythm with the beat of his heart as he ran, stirring up the scattered leaves on the forest floor. He could feel his breath catching even as he struggled to keep running. Behind him, faint laughter echoed through the dark trees, edging him on further.<p>

You can't hide; the wind seemed to whisper around him. Cannot hide, not ever.

He stumbled and finally fell. For a moment the man simply stayed down, panting and wheezing for breath. He could not remember ever feeling this much fear, not even after having been pulled over by the police, that one time when he was a teenager and had stolen his father's prized car for a joyride. The current situation was different, very different. He had nothing, not the devil-may-care attitude he had wielded when he was that age, nor the weapons he had taken into the woods earlier that afternoon. His shotgun was lost somewhere in the woods behind him, not that it had done much good against what hunted him.

You can't hide. The whispered voice sounded much closer this time.

Panic-filled eyes looked back, even as the man jumped to his feet. Adrenaline invigorated him and his feet moved to start fleeing again. Even as he made the first step, he felt it was too late, however, almost as if some primal instinct told him he was a hunter turned prey. For a moment the man wondered if this was how a rabbit would feel with a snare wound around its feet, how a deer would feel seconds before wolves jumped it. A dark chuckle floated across the clearing, coming from between the trees in front of him. Futilely, the man stepped back.

"Please, please don't!" he screamed.

In his last fleeting moments, all the man could see were two bright blue eyes and a cold, satisfied smile.


	2. In The Beginning

**In The Beginning**

* * *

><p>Dean rubbed the latest mark on his arm, in a rare moment of quiet contemplation. His brother had gone out for food, so the bunker seemed emptier then before. Unlike most moments in his life, Dean felt as though he could finally stop and think for a while, no matter how much he normally tried to avoid these kinds of situations. The quiet atmosphere around him helped somewhat, he had to admit. He sighed as he pushed down his sleeve over his arm. It would do no good for Sam to find him and see the strange mark on his arm.<p>

He didn't yet know what to do about the mark of Cain, or if anything was to be done. He did not know if he could buy the story the demon had told him before; there were too many variables, too many factors he had to take into account. '_Demons lie'_, he recounted the line he had told Sammy many times before. In his experience, this was all there was to it. Demons lie, so why should Cain be any different? It was true that the demon had spent the last few hundred years or so secluded in a house, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, but could he assume the demon had also been truthful? What did receiving the mark of Cain mean for Dean?

Either Cain was lying, or he wasn't. And if he had been lying, then what? Would Dean slowly turn into a demon, somehow? Was he predestined to kill his little brother as Cain had done, as _his own father_ had warned him of being possible, all these years ago? Could he truly accept such a fact, after all those years of thinking he had finally escaped having to make that decision? Then again, if the demon had been telling the truth, Dean wouldn't really be that happy either. After all, how could he have that much in common with a demon, of all things? Demons lie. Dean snorted softly to himself. He ought to change his motto. After all, it weren't just demons that lied. He had lied a lot himself, still was lying to Sam in a way, by not telling him about exactly what had transpired on the search for the First Blade. Sam had lied to him, to Bobby, to everyone. Hell, Cas had lied to them, multiple times. And if an Angel of the Lord could and would lie, who wouldn't, really?

"Dean?"

"Dude, what took you so long?" Dean snapped, glad for the chance to rid himself of those dark thoughts, even though deep down he knew he had to get the answers to his questions eventually. "I'm starving!"

"There was a hold-up", Sam started to explain, even as he placed the take-out bags on the table. "Not my fault you wanted dinner from the most popular diner in just about the state. Got you your burritos, though".

"Gimme", Dean demanded, snatching the bag from the table. "You're forgiven, by the way", he added as an afterthought, not missing the eye-roll his brother sent his way.

He was honestly quite happy his brother had returned to the bunker. He still felt a little anxious whenever he had to let Sam out of sight, out of safety, no matter how often Sam would use the argument of being a grown man. The eldest supposed it had to do with his kid brother almost dying from the trials, then running around with an angel in his subconscious (and that totally was Dean's fault, but really, what choice did he have at the time?) and then having to risk dying all over again, because said angel had been forced to leave the building.

"Anything interesting happen while you were out?" he asked casually, taking a first bite from his dinner. Without conscious thought, he closed his eyes in pleasure at the taste. That was one awesome burrito, waiting time be damned!

"No, nothing", Sam managed to sound frustrated even without meaning to. "It's been quiet these last few days. What about you? Have you heard anything from Cas yet?"

Dean knew where this was going. Ever since Castiel had gone to find Gadreel, Sam would occasionally ask about the angel. Had Dean heard anything from him? Had he stopped by or called? Did Dean suppose he was doing okay? To be honest, Dean was starting to feel the slightest bit annoyed by all those questions. After all, it wasn't as if he and Cas were joined at the hip. Even more so, ever since starting this hunt for Gadreel his friend had become more distant, only occasionally calling Dean to give information, to report yet another dead end in his search. He hadn't once stopped by the bunker these past few weeks.

"Nope, nada. But you know how it is with Cas. He'll stop by sooner or later", Dean leaned back, seemingly lazily.

"Still he could've called", Sam bit out. "He's been at this for weeks, Dean! He, what? Called you just about three times?"

"Come on, Sam. What's this about, huh? Cas is a big boy, he can take care of himself, so don't worry your pretty little head over it".

If he doubted the sentiment of that statement, he did not let it show. Better to steer the conversation towards safe waters. If he let Sam start on about what their friend had been looking for, it would inevitably turn into a discussion about Gadreel, about past events, about what Dean had done. He couldn't face such a conversation right now, so it was better to keep it safe. Even if he had to lie a little bit to keep it that way.

Sam, however, wasn't that easily deterred. "Yeah, but still… He could update us on the situation. It's the least he could do!"

"Sam", Dean wanted desperately to put an end to this conversation. "I get it. You want to find Gadreel, I know. So do I. But if Cas hasn't picked up his trail yet, then he hasn't. We can sit here, and wonder, but what good does that do? We haven't made much headway in searching for the First Blade either, haven't we?"

"That's…" Sam began.

"What, different?" Dean interrupted him smoothly. "I say we make ourselves useful, at least until anything on those cases resurfaces. I'm done with sitting around".

"All right," Sam sighed, shoulders slumping. "You're right".

"I mean, we find us a case… Wait, what?"

"I said you're right. We've been spending way too much time cooped up inside here. Me, I'm all for a new hunt".

"Seriously?" Dean had not expected him to give in that easily. In the past, Sam would have insisted that they talk about everything, overanalysing every little thing Dean said, each frown upon his face. Arguing about each topic Dean wanted to deflect or ignore. Nowadays his little brother seemed more agreeable. Well, he seemed that way on most days at least, he corrected himself.

"Yeah. I'll go check in the morning whether there's a case nearby".

"I'd be nice to go on an old-fashioned ghost hunt, you know. Nothing complicated, just find the thing and burn the bones. Perhaps rescue a damsel in distress while I'm at it", Dean mused. "Get some action".

He smirked as Sam rolled his eyes, right on cue. Still know how to annoy Sammy, he told himself. No matter how much time would pass, some things never changed.

* * *

><p>Eugene Warrick closed the door of his patrol car quietly and looked up to the landscape ahead of him. Ever since he could remember, the place had had a strange hold over him; it was an alluring and beautiful sight, though the man was well aware how dangerous it could be. More than once in his respectable career he had been responsible for coordinating search and rescue in the area, operating from the very place he stood now while trying to find some hiker who'd stupidly gotten himself lost in the wild nature. He had been young, then, and full of hopes and dreams. He'd gotten most of what he wanted over the years, but there were times when he still felt as if something was missing. It was in these moments that he found his thoughts straying to the area laid out before him. Here it was quiet, the bustling of town's life far behind him, somewhere at the end of the lone road on which his car now stood.<p>

He liked to consider himself a simple man with simple needs and pleasures, but knew his wife would most likely disagree. Lately they had been getting into more arguments, and to Eugene it felt like his home had become a smothering blanket. The town he once loved felt more and more like a death trap with each passing day, a trap that just wouldn't let go. It hadn't been this way when they had first arrived there, young, in love and hoping to settle down. Perhaps he was just tired of it all now. He knew the people in town talked a lot. No matter how much they tried to keep up the pretence that nothing they did or said would become public knowledge, Eugene knew better. After all, he'd lived in the same town for close to twenty years now.

No matter how stifling town life could become though, he could always escape by coming here. The soft howling of the wind blowing through narrow passageways in the distance calmed his nerves as he breathed in the clear air. Lost in a trance he gazed out across the land, leaning back against the hood of his car. Eugene didn't know how long he stood there, thoughts scattering and he himself being lost in them; in the nature all around him. There was no evidence of mankind existing in this place, he mused, save for the car he leaned against and the clothes he wore. The place was ancient and he could almost taste it in the air. How small a human life seemed, compared to this, he thought reverently.

"Warrick, come in. You there?"

The CB in his car startled him out of his thoughts, his mood instantly souring. He ought to be getting back to work. The short reprieve had done nothing to make him feel better, after all. He could feel the familiar pressure of real life returning even as he clambered in the car; the weight of years slowing him down slightly. Wistfully he glanced back. Soon he'd be back here, he promised himself as he started the car. Who knows, perhaps one day he might attempt a hike in the area himself, though he bemusedly shook his head even as he thought of it. As if.

As he drove back towards his town, he did not notice the air behind him charging, as if a storm was coming, nor did he hear the wind picking up, carrying the words he'd thought seconds before like a mantra. It was like a whispered promise, an assurance from something seemingly otherworldly.

He'd be back indeed.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?"<p>

Dean jumped at the sound of the voice behind him. Blindly, he groped for the remote and quickly pushed a button, setting the television on whatever channel corresponded with it. Inwardly, he cursed himself. He should've paid attention to when Sam was coming back from his shower.

"Nothing", he hurried to defend himself. Immediately, he had to supress a wince. There was such a thing as too casual, after all.

Sam smirked knowingly and answered. "I saw that, you know".

"Saw what, Sammy?"

"You know".

"No, seriously, what?" he grinned.

"Come on, Dean! Oprah?"

"Shuddup, Sammy", Dean muttered, knowing he'd been caught once again. "It was the only thing that was on".

Sam opened his mouth, undoubtedly to give a scathing retort, but whatever he was planning to say was lost as a knock resounded through the room. Dean sat up and warily glanced at the door. Not a lot of people knew about the location of the bunker, never mind that there were people living in it, so visitors were practically non-existent. Visitors that announced themselves, at any rate. The brothers exchanged glances, and with a small nod Sam slunk away, out of sight. Dean stood up and apprehensively made his way to the door. The blond did not know what to expect. Was it a lost stranger, enemy, a grizzly bear with manners? Trying to be as silent as humanly possible, he picked up the shotgun that stood close, ever ready to shoot. The knock sounded again, more impatient this time.

"Here goes nothing", Dean muttered as he yanked open the door. The first thing he registered was a face, familiar but way closer than he'd expected. He jumped back in surprise. What the…

"Hello, Dean".

"Cas", Dean greeted. "Since when do you knock? Do you know how close you were to getting shot?"

The angel inclined his head, but did not offer further explanation. As Dean heard Sam coming up from behind him, having heard the words exchanged and having recognised Castiel's voice, he stepped aside to let his friend in, closing the door behind them and placing the shotgun back against the wall.

"Cas, where've you been?" Sam exclaimed. "We were getting a bit worried".

"I've been following up on a lead on Gadreel", Castiel said matter-of-factly. "It appears he has visited the state of South Carolina".

"Really? Well, and…?" Sam pressed on.

"He's not there anymore", the angel continued.

"So what are you doing here?" Dean shot a sharp look at his brother. Was it him, or did those words sound kind of harsh? Sam seemed to come to the same conclusion, for the long-haired brunet hurried to continue. "I mean, you've obviously been busy. What happened?"

The slight frown Castiel wore at his previous words did not disappear outright. "I haven't.." he started slowly, and shifted uncomfortably. "I just thought I should tell you in person".

Dean looked at Cas appraisingly. The angel looked kind of tired, he noted. Dark bruising was smudged under his eyes; his face was pale and drawn. His clothes had a rumpled look about them as well, even more so than usual. The appearance belied all his previous words to Sam, that Cas could take care of himself. The hunter sighed softly.

"Are you alright, Cas?"

"Of course", the angel inclined his head. It seemed to Dean as though he tried to stand up straighter, whereas before he had appeared to slightly hunch over to his left side. Dean frowned. Was he injured? "I have acquired another clue though, which tells me Gadreel might be looking for something important. I'll need to look up some information in the library though".

"What, and you're gonna do that tonight?" Sam asked.

Castiel nodded and started towards the room, which held most of the bunker's book collection. Dean exchanged a glance with his brother, mouthing 'what?'. Sam frowned.

"He's limping, Dean", he said as soon as the dark-haired angel had disappeared from view. "What the hell happened to him?"

"I don't know", Dean answered truthfully.

"So aren't you going to ask him?"

"And then what? I asked already". At Sam's look, he continued. "He said he's fine!"

His brother continued to just gaze at him, with a slight frown, wearing his 'are-you-serious-Dean?' face that the eldest had become overly familiar with during the years. Dean grumbled, but nonetheless set off after his friend. He didn't want to admit it, but he was worried as well. Didn't mean he was looking forward to this conversation though. And really, if Cas wanted them to know, he would have said something earlier, wouldn't he?

When he entered the room, Castiel was already searching intently through an old tome. The pages of the book had turned slightly yellow over the years, and now had a frail look about them, as though the slightest turn of the hand might rip them apart. Dean hadn't seen the book before, but then again, he wasn't one to know one old book from the other. Sam was the makeshift librarian amongst them, not Dean. The elder knew the importance of research, true, and would remember the stuff that he deemed important, but that didn't mean he wanted to memorize the entire library.

"So, what are you looking for?" Now that Dean was alone with Cas, he found himself hesitating.

"I don't know yet", the angel answered. "I believe he is looking for some kind of weapon, but what it is, or where it is I do not know".

"A weapon, huh? So what is it, some sort of secret weapon of Heaven? Do you think it's one of those things Balthazar stole?"

Cas simply looked at him. "I just said don't know, Dean. I'll see what I can find out and then tomorrow I'll start looking again".

"Wait, what?" Dean was taken aback. "Tomorrow already? Because I meant to ask you, are you sure you're alright? I mean, you look tired".

The angel opened his mouth, closed it, then seemed to change his mind about what he was about to say. "I'm fine".

"You don't look fine". Dean wasn't about to give up now. Even if there was a chance that nothing was going on with Cas, it didn't seem likely in the face of his hesitation to answer the question. "I mean, you look as if you haven't slept in a week, which might be true if you were still human, but you're not. You lean over slightly to the side, as if your ribs are bothering you, and Sam said you were limping. Now, are you going to answer the question? What happened?"

Castiel sighed, and fixed Dean with a level gaze. "Nothing happened, Dean. I was looking for Gadreel, didn't find him, and made my way back to this place. It's just…". Here he faltered, and Dean happily jumped in.

"Just what?"

"One of my brothers found me, when I was in South Carolina. He tried to kill me".

"Were you hurt?" Dean leaned forward. Castiel shook his head.

"Barely. I was able to get away, but I had to hurt him to do so". The angel sighed. "I'm just tired of it, Dean, tired of hurting my brethren, but there's nothing you can do about it".

The hunter didn't really know what to say to that. Sorry, it sucks that your family wants to kill you? Somehow he didn't think that answer would suffice. Dean cleared his throat.

"I eh... I'm sorry. At least you're okay, though". When Castiel remained silent, he continued. "The offer still stands, you know. If there's anything we can do…"

"I know Dean. But it's fine, I just want keep looking for Gadreel for now".

"And after that? You know, Sam and I are looking for a hunt. You can join us, if you want", Dean offered lamely. He wasn't yet entirely convinced that that was all there was to it. He saw the angel shake his head decisively, however, and disappointment immediately filled his chest. He should have known, he thought dejectedly.

"No, thanks. I'll be leaving shortly, as soon as I find what I'm looking for".

Dean nodded and backtracked to the kitchen. I'll talk to him in the morning, he promised himself. In the morning, he could try to talk some more sense in the angel. Perhaps Sam would even back him up on this. For all his words earlier about wanting to find Gadreel, he too still cared about Cas, after all. Yes, Dean concluded, in the morning they would find out what exactly was going on.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Next chapter should be ready soon. Thanks for reading!_


	3. The First Arrival

**The First Arrival**

* * *

><p>"So, get this…", Dean heard Sam mutter from behind his laptop. "Over the past year 6 men have disappeared in Hell's Half Acre alone".<p>

"Really? Hell's Half Acre? Who'd name his town Hell's Half Acre?!" Dean said indignantly as he pulled down his tee, his hair wetting the collar. He quickly picked up his shirt and slid it on, covering the mark, before he walked out into the living room to meet Sammy in his search for a new case.

"Yeah, it seems pretty weird. Anyway, the police found zilch. No apparent connection between the victims – different ethnicities, different ages, hair colour, social class, different jobs, religions. Who- or whatever took them didn't leave any evidence behind", Sam said, folding his hand behind his head, stretching back. He must have been behind that damn thing far too long, Dean told himself. He was pretty sure his little brother had been up a long time and had since been searching the net for any signs of supernatural activity, while Dean himself rather enjoyed the comfort of his own bed as opposed to the motel room beds that soon would be their hideout again if, and it seemed so, Sam had found another case.

"Or they just suck at their jobs… As usual", Dean noted as he walked over to take a look at the newspaper Sam was reading. There was just a small piece of text in between advertisements for the divine light and heaven's grace, tucked away as if the editor didn't want this little insignificant looking piece of text to be read, but didn't have any other choice but to place it in this particular newspaper, on this particular day.

"How did you even find this in between all the halo-crap? I mean, this page is screaming divine propriety and heavenly wrath", Dean grinned at Sam while quickly reading through article.

A sixty-eight year-old accountant had disappeared from his home last Tuesday night, while his wife – soon to be ex-wife, Dean noted – had been staying with her sister after they reportedly had it out quite fiercely a few days earlier. The police had suspected the wife, but couldn't find any supporting evidence and thus had to let her go. Up to now nobody heard anything from the man and a hotline was mentioned at the bottom for any information one might have about the disappearance of the guy. No mentions of other disappearances or anything remotely supernatural for that matter.

"So…where are the other five people you are talking about?"

"Well, two young boys have disappeared a month ago, but they were listed as runaways, then two months before that a twenty-five-year-old drug addict went missing, but again, the police weren't too interested. A few months before that an African American male went missing. The police performed a minor investigation into his disappearance, but when the trail went cold, so went the investigation".

"Dude, it is only 8:30", Dean exclaimed bewildered.

"Dude, the day is halfway gone already", Sam replied with that know-it-all annoying look on his face, as he always did when he disapproved any factor of Dean's so treasured lifestyle. Like the time his little brother had found his first magazine of Busty Asian Beauties or when he got home at his 14 years of age with his beloved shotgun in one hand and a six-pack in the other. Even then he looked at him in that annoying way, the kid was barely ten years old! Dean was sure his baby-brother would never appreciate the little things in life as he does. He heard Sam's voice far away blabbering something about more disappearances in the neighbouring towns, but to Dean it sounded like an incoherent collaboration of words.

"So, I think we should check it out", Sam tore him out of his thoughts.

Check it out? Check what out?

"Dean?"

Right, the case his little brother had stumbled across during his morning hour search on the marvellous almost-never-ending information source called internet.

"Yeah, sure. First thing. After breakfast", Dean grinned as he walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a day-old burrito, which he had offered to Cas the previous day. The angel had politely declined however, since he wasn't quite fond of it anymore ever since he got his – well, a – grace back. The dude had barged in yesterday, early evening looking awfully anxious and bewildered, Dean honestly thought. He had looked exhausted and frightfully pale in his tainted coat and white shirt. Dean could've sworn he caught a glimpse of fear in the angel's mesmerizing deep blue eyes. Fine my arse, the dude looked everything but 'fine'. He was feeling a sudden burst of anger boiling up inside of him at the thought of how terrible the angel had looked and still claimed everything was alright. Should he bring Cas up? See what his brother was thinking? No, he was fairly sure Sammy felt the same way, but there was nothing they could have done to stop him from taking off again. The dude was determined to get back onto his lead. As soon as he had found what he was looking for he had left the bunker. Dean only hoped that he would come ask for help if he got into real trouble…

"You know, a greasy, heart attack inducing piece of junk food doesn't exactly count as breakfast". There was that look again to make him feel awkward and to make matters worse, Sam's elaborate description of his delicious burrito made him lose his appetite as well. Grouchy he made his way through the kitchen to find the little garbage bin on the other end and muttering he threw the burrito away.

"Fine, where to?"

* * *

><p>"Hi there, my name is Dave Mustaine and this is my partner Jason Newsted", Dean spoke naturally while he showed his fake ID-card to the officer behind the front desk of the Hell's Half Acre police station.<p>

It was only a small police station, with few staff members. There was an old wooden desk, immediately on your left-hand side when you entered through the front door. The officer behind it looked like he ate a little too much of the donuts which he was, quite unsuccessfully, trying to hide behind the counter. There was a picture on his desk, which held a beautiful woman, dark hair, and if Dean saw correctly, also dark eyes. There were two children, one about eight years old, standing next to the kneeling woman, who held the other boy, which must have been about four years old, in her arms, sitting on her knee. His wife and kids, was Dean's guess and when he looked at Sam he saw that he was thinking the same thing.

A little further up ahead in the small building were doors that most likely lead to a few offices, while on the right-hand side there were a few benches where people could sit and wait. Wait for what, Dean thought, to be brought to the executioner? To wait for justice? Or maybe for forgiveness to come down upon them. There was a little hallway that would lead to – only a few – holding cells all the way at the back of the building.

"What's FBI doing in a shitty little-hole-in-the-map place like this?" the officer behind the desk muttered grouchy.

"We're here regarding the disappearance of mister Mahony. We understand there haven't been many leads so far?" Sam inquired politely.

"Hm…", the officer mumbled as he got up and walked out before them into one of the offices. Sam and Dean followed and stood in the doorway. This office wasn't much bigger than a broom closet, but they even managed to fit a plant in the farther left corner of the room, not leaving any space to get out of behind the desk – which was placed right in front of it – from that side.

"Sandys, these agents are here about the Mahony-case", the officer said as he gestured toward Sam and Dean, standing behind him.

"Right. Thank you Eugene", a rough voice said. The voice suited the man it belonged to, tall, muscular, slightly older, grey at the hairline, evolving into a thick black coiffure. The man wore small, half round reading glasses, with a pink frame, which he took off as he got up from the chair to shake the brother's hands.

"Anthony Sandys", the man said with his raw voice. "So, you're here about mister Mahony. May I ask why this case draws the interest of the FBI?"

"Over the past few months there seem to have been more disappearances than just mister Mahony if I'm correct", Dean replied in a stoic manner that seemed to be coming more and more naturally with each passing year.

"If you count a missing crack-head and two teenaged runaways as 'disappearances', then I suppose you are right, but none of these ever caught the fed's attention. Anyway, we're glad you're here now, because we seem to be stuck. This man was a well-liked member of our community, he didn't have any debts or other misfortunes in his life, except for his little pow-wow with his wife a couple-a-days ago. If you'd ask me, they'd be getting a divorce soon".

"A divorce? What made their marriage go so sour?" Sam asked almost genuinely interested, with his best puppy dog eyed look.

"Who'd say? The man was always charming and appealing, to younger women as well. I think the old crook had a little snack on the side. Maybe even more than one, if you know what I mean", Sandys said with a mischievous grin.

"So, he was cheating on his wife?", Dean asked as he cleared his throat. "Do you by any chance happen to know with whom?" he continued as he glanced at his brother to see the same amused look as he had felt appearing on his own face.

"With whom?" the man laughed. "That would be Sheila Berrington, gentlemen. She has been around multiple times to file a complaint against mrs. Mahony for assault. The woman isn't right in her head if you'd ask me, first sleeping with someone else's husband and then complaining that the wife is harassing you".

Both brothers chuckled as they thanked the officer for his time and left the station.

* * *

><p>Hell's Half Acre was a barren, desolate, vast canyon with steep slopes and stalagmite-like rocks, riddled with cracks where the rocks have been eroded away over the years by howling winds and torrential downpours; all of which made the whole view remind the Winchesters of Stonehenge on the moon, after they first laid eyes on the land they were about to discover. A land which was holding its own secrets and mysteries, never giving away what would be about to happen, always ferocious and abstruse to its own content.<p>

Along the cruel territory was a lonesome winding dirt road, close to terrifying escarpments, which lead to the only motel and small diner, which held a magnificent view onto the vicious looking area. The only activity on this road on that Thursday late-morning was the arrival of a chrome detailed, well-polished black old fashioned police car, holding a Kansas licence plate, classic rock pounding from the car's insides, as it carefully drove along the narrow dirt road, up to the old diner at the end.

From afar a young woman stood gazing at the black Impala, making its way up the winding road, her long black hair dancing on the gusts of wind, as was her gown. She didn't blink once as she contemplated the scene before her eyes curiously, however, distraction was about to unfold, for a modern police car pulled up on a piece of land behind where she was standing, just as she had expected. She turned and moved closer to the vehicle as she watched a man step out from behind the steering wheel and make his way to a little remote cabin where a blonde-haired woman stood waiting for him in the doorway. She looked much younger than the man, who was reaching out to touch her rosy cheek and pressing his lips onto hers. She happily wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into the little cabin.

As the young woman stood there, watching the officer follow the blonde lady into the cabin, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her passionately, she felt a burning anger boiling up inside her, consuming her heart and soul; her ice cold, bright blue eyes lit up with a burning fire behind them and moments later she disappeared from where she was once standing, as if she had evaporated into thin air, vanishing from this existence.

* * *

><p>"So, what do think we're dealing with?" Dean said through his double burger.<p>

They had gone up to the old diner and sat behind a window, from where they could look out onto the beautiful territory of Hell's Half Acre. In the diner were only a few small tables with red-white chequered table cloths and little vases with single flowers in the middle of them. Surrounding the tables were old, wooden chairs, which were quite uncomfortable to sit on for too long. At the back of the diner was a small bar, where a mature, overweight, red-haired waitress was pouring in a cup of coffee for a former ranger. The waitress had told them that the seventy-five-year-old ranger had been long since retired, but when the men started disappearing he had immediately volunteered to be part of rescue parties and had gone out with them on every single search ever since. Admiration had been resonating through the sound of her voice as she had recounted the story to the brothers.

Afterwards, Dean had ordered himself an extra-large double burger with French fries and to his delightful surprise Sam had actually, on a rare occasion, indulged himself in Dean's fetish for greasy junk food as well.

"I'm not sure. According to the sheriff, Mahony cheated on his wife. We could be looking at a Woman in White".

"What? Again? Another one of those bitches?"

"Like I said, I'm not sure, but we might want to investigate that possibility".

"Well, at least that would mean that we have actually found ourselves a nice old-fashioned salt and burn case!" Dean said as a bright sparkle lit up in his eyes and a cheerful smile curled his lips. Maybe they would finally catch a break, after all this time, he thought, yet he was overcome with a melancholic feeling not long after.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, a great distance away from Wyoming, on top of the Living Shangri-La in the Canadian city of Vancouver, a mid-game assessment took place between two powerful players.<p>

"I am afraid we lost track of him. We were closing in on him, but he somehow managed to get away and shake us off. It is not quite clear to me what happened exactly, but I believe Emanuel had found him, however, we seemed to have lost Emanuel subsequently".

"I can tell you do not see the importance of this individual. We need him to complete our spell. Without him, it will not work. We need him, alive".

"We are – I am – truly sorry, Metatron. We will find him again and bring him to you".

"Good, because I have it on good authority that Gadreel has been taking up on a solid lead to the weapon. He will fulfil his duty shortly and so should you, if you wish to go home".

The fluttering sound of wings was obscured by the high winds above the Canadian city.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading! Please, let us know what you think. Review?<em>


	4. Yankee White

_A/N: So here's chapter three. Enjoy!_

_To Ruxi23: We're glad you're enjoying the story. As for what Gadreel is looking for, well, you'll find out in this chapter. Slight hint though: this is not the last time we'll be seeing Gadreel. There's going to be a whole lot more of Cas in the future, as well._

* * *

><p><strong>Yankee white<strong>

* * *

><p>His greatest fear had become reality, for Gadreel had indeed been searching for the legendary weapon, which had been lost to all creation, including angels, ever since its last usage at the beginning of the Gregorian Calendar. Many had endeavoured to acquire this long-lost obscure artefact, but most of their presumptuous attempts have been in vain. During what humans called 'the second World War', Hitler's Nazi party had been strenuously searching for this implement of death and had indeed succeeded in its covert quest. Reading about this dreadful fact the night before in the bunker, cold chills had run down the angel's spine. Fortunately they had been ignorant to this armament's true powers and therefore, its influence on this event had been limited and this incident had been merely an insignificant occurrence in the grander scope. Of course, from the human perspective, this was a major tragedy, he knew.<p>

Those blissfully cretinous humans had tried to transport this confounded weaponry by submarine, but the boat had been sunk by the Royal Air Force, dragging the antiquity down into the crushing depths of the Danish sea, which was once known as the Sinus Codanus. There it remained for some time, until members of the secluded order of the Knights Templar, working for the Intelligence Community, had been able to discover its whereabouts. Now this ancient weapon was in possession of the Templars once again, hidden at one of the most secure locations available on Earth.

"Mister Krushnic, you forgot your access card!" a female voice exclaimed as Cas walked towards what looked like a metal doorframe in the middle of the hallway. Right beside it was a counter with a smaller version of the metal frame, a conveyor belt running beneath it. People placed their bags onto the belt and then walked through the doorframe, where occasionally an alarm went off and the person that had just walked through it, was thoroughly checked by a guard.

He turned around to see a young woman running toward him with her hand reaching out to him, holding a small card, a little bit larger than an average bank card. When he had arrived he had picked a random name from the list of interns that he happened to overlook at the front desk, Dmitri Krushnic. By now he had learned to properly lie his way through life.

He smiled and took the card from the young woman. "Thank you".

He made his way to the metal gate, but was stopped by one of the guards standing behind it.

"I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to take off your coat".

He stopped and took a moment to take in what the man had just said, looking vaguely at his trench coat and then back at the man. He slowly but surely slid off his coat and folded it neatly to place it in one of the baskets that were next the conveyor belt.

"The belt too, sir", he heard the guard's instructions and pulled that out of the pants' loops, rolled it up as much as possible and placed it on top of the trench coat in the little basket.

After the basket went through the small metal frame, he walked through the doorframe towards the guard on the other side.

"So, mister Krushnic is it?" the guard spoke and Cas just nodded. "Are you here for the internship program as well?" Another nod. "Well, after you've taken your belongings, the group assembles in the first room on your right".

As he jerked his belt back into his trousers and put his coat back on, he thanked the guard and made his way to the room the guard had appointed, his ankle still somewhat bothering him, but that had mostly healed, unlike the stinging pain he could still clearly feel in his ribs, radiating through his entire upper body. He gently rubbed his ribs, trying to ease the pain a little as he slightly limped into the room.

There were a couple more people there of various age groups and ethnicities. The room was not too big, but more than spacious enough for the assembled group. He found it to be a beautiful chamber, light, a little old-fashioned furniture, but the atmosphere was soothing. It actually reminded him of the location the angels had manufactured to keep Dean in until he was supposed to give in to Michael.

"Welcome to the White House", Cas was ripped from his thoughts by an enthusiastic male voice and turned to where the sound was coming from. An elderly man stood facing the group of people. He was not very tall, grey hair, a little bigger around the waist and he had a friendly face, the angel noticed.

"As you all know, the White House Internship Program provides a unique opportunity to gain valuable professional experience and build leadership skills. This hands-on program is designed to mentor and cultivate today's young leaders, which would be you, strengthen your understanding of the Executive Office and prepare you for future public service opportunities", the man continued his speech.

He rambled some more about what a great honour they had been given to have the opportunity to take part in this unique internship program and how they may even get a chance to meet the President of the United States. Cas, however, wasn't too interested in meeting the president. He had another mission, which he really needed to attend to. He couldn't just leave the group at this time, though, he would have to wait until they started moving around, so he could get away unnoticed. He hoped that was sooner rather than later and then he hoped it wasn't too late already…

* * *

><p>"And now we will make our way to the Oval Office", he could still hear the man say, even though he had already separated from the group and moved into another hallway.<p>

After the man had finished his speech, he would show the group around in the White House and have them meet the most important people. At the end of the tour, they would all be assigned to a mentor. Cas considered himself fortunate that the real mister Krushnic had failed to show up yet, but he was sure he hadn't much time, for he could arrive any minute.

He was certain there should be an elevator around here, leading to a subterranean complex, from where the president would continue in office in times of terror, or so he had heard. What many, however, didn't know, was that there was another layer of the complex beneath it, where all kinds of obscure operations were devised.

Cas was sure that the weapon would be kept somewhere down there. He walked through a maze of hallways; always making sure nobody followed him and eventually found a heavily bolted set of doors, which looked like they could be the doors of an elevator. As he got closer to the doors he found there was a button next to it to go down, so behind the heavily bolted doors must be the elevator he was looking for.

He pressed the button, but nothing happened. Then he realised he needed an access card for the elevator doors to open, so he held his card in front of a magnetic reader. Nothing again. He would need a card from a higher-ranking employee to open up the doors. He really didn't have time to go looking for someone holding the right access card, he thought as he decided what to do next. Then he heard two people talking a little further down the hall and took cover around the corner. He heard the voices coming closer, but then they remained at the same distance for a bit. He heard a door open and close and one set of footsteps closing in now.

* * *

><p>"So, are we going for a hike during the lunch break?" Johnny asked Erik as they walked through the hallway.<p>

"No, not today. I have some important work to finish for the big chef", he replied as he gestured to the big stack of papers and files that were laying in his left arm on top of the dark blue sleeve of his suite.

Johnny had always been a big fan of walking outdoors for a bit while on lunch break, Erik knew, but today he had a lot of work yet to be done and therefore didn't have time to go walking about DC. They have finally had a breakthrough in their search for the perfect biological agent, after months only finding a big pile of nothing. Somehow it always seemed to have a huge flaw, a weakness for one or more conventional ways of destroying objects of terror. Now he was sure, they were one step ahead of the world. This agent was not only super-efficient, but also held the possibility of adapting itself extremely rapidly to changing surroundings. Today they would have a little field test to see if it was as good as the scientist had been promising them. He smiled at the mere thought of it.

"Too bad, I think I will be going anyway though", Johnny said as they stopped in front of a door on their right side. His colleague's office, Erik knew and he took a step forward, not to stand right in front of the door.

"Well, good luck then", Johnny said and walked through the door.

"Thanks", he replied and walked on toward the double steel door at the end of the hallway. When he reached the elevator, he took his access card from the pocket inside his jacket and held it in front of the magnetic reader. The elevator button turned green and he pushed it, after which the doors opened. He stepped in and pressed the button to go all the way down to the lowest floor.

"Good morning, mister Clark, please provide identification", a gentle female voice sounded from the elevator's speakers. Erik arched his head towards a little round scanner and held his eye in front of it.

"Thank you, have a nice day", the female voice said and Erik turned towards the doors, only to find a man standing very closely in front of him, dark hair, blue eyes, wearing a tainted trench coat, reaching out to touch his head. The sudden sight of this man had filled him with fear, but before he could think of anything else, the world turned black.

* * *

><p>The elevator closed behind him with a dull sound and he felt himself taking a deep breath while turning around to face the doors. He slowly stepped backwards to lean against the back of the elevator as it gently started moving downwards. An unpleasant oppressive feeling overwhelmed him and his hands started to feel clammy as he held onto the railing behind him, his hands involuntary squeezing it tighter than he meant to. The elevator passed the first floor down, slowly moving further. His head was getting cloudy, his sight a little blurred and he found it was getting harder to breathe. He kept looking at the little screen above the elevator, which now indicated that they had reached the intended floor and he felt the elevator coming to a halt. A sensation of relief ran through his body as the steel doors in front of him opened and he started pulling the unconscious man out of the elevator, but half way he dropped him, a painful burning sensation running through his upper body. His nearly collapsed, but managed to stabilise himself against the doorway. He took a couple of deep breaths and took a quick look around. There was nobody in the hallway.<p>

He needed to hide the middle-aged man, the little hair remaining on his head had already grown white and he was wearing an expensive dark blue suit. He looked around him, but didn't find a room or closet nearby. Looking back up at the elevator ceiling he noticed a hatch. He dragged the man back into the elevator and pushed him through the hatch, biting the severe pain these actions caused away, breathing heavily. When he finally managed to get the man on top of the elevator, he closed the hatch and leaned against the side of the elevator for just a moment, regaining his composure.

As he walked out, he got a chance to take a proper look around. The elevator was located in a long corridor, white walls, grey floor. There were a few corridors diverging from the one he was standing in. The weapon he had been searching for, would be hidden somewhere on this floor of the subterranean covert complex.

These kinds of ancient armaments would leave behind a certain aura, somewhat of a fingerprint, wherever they were or have been present; an aura that could be divined by superior entities like the celestial being he was.

Here he could sense an aura, but it was much weaker than he had expected it would be. Nevertheless, he would be able to track it down. He walked along different corridors, passing people, but no one would second guess his being there, for he walked with certainty and determination toward his goal, which made it look like he belonged there.

He finally reached a secured vault and he knew this was the source of the armament's aura, this was the place they would be keeping the weapon. He only had to find a good way to open the vault's door. Strength-wise, of course, he would be able to pull the door out of its hinges, breaking its locks and security system, but he knew that would set off all alarms and the place would go to lock-down, which was not something he sought to happen. Instead he found there to be another magnetic card reader and a combination lock. By simply touching the device, Cas was able to read the correct code, which he then entered into the security system. He used the elevator-man's access card to open the vault and he stepped inside.

The vault was filled with antiquities, old scrolls of parchment and ancient volumes. It was a little similar to the library back at the bunker, Cas thought, as he walked through the vault. These scrolls and tomes were part of the library of Alexandria, he concluded, as he looked at them, filled with wonder. Most of the collection had been lost since the destruction of the library in the early ages. Somehow the American government had been able to retrieve many works and keep it in the dark.

Voices down the corridor ripped his curiosity away from the writings. He quickly searched the vault and found the exact spot where the aura originated, but the weapon had been long gone. He had arrived too late…

* * *

><p>"Metatron", the angel spoke as he walked up to the tiny looking man, but the angel knew better, for he was the highest of all angels, handpicked by God himself and for that, the angel had the deepest respect.<p>

"Gadreel, have you been able to obtain the arcane artefact?"

"I have indeed acquired the artefact", Gadreel said as he held out a long item, wrapped in pale-brown linen.

Metatron took the item from his hands and gave an appreciative nod, for the angel had done a superb job. This beautiful, but destructive antiquity would prove itself powerful once again in due time, Metatron thought as he felt its strong aura radiating and he smiled.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So, what do you think? Love it, hate it?_


	5. Pandora's Box

_A/N: Special thanks to Ruxi23 again, for reviewing our story._

_We would really like to hear what other readers think about the story this far as well. So if you have any suggestions or tips to improve our writing, or if you simply want to let us know how you feel about the story, please review. It motivates us to keep writing! :-D_

* * *

><p><strong>Pandora's Box<strong>

* * *

><p>"We're sorry to bother you, ma'am", Sam spoke sincerely as soon as the door had opened, "but we're here to ask you some questions about your husband, Eric, and the night he disappeared. I'm Jason Newsted and this is my partner, Dave Mustaine". He gestured towards Dean, who showed the woman his FBI badge as well.<p>

Cady Mahony was a slight woman, with long red hair framing her face, trailing down to fall over her shoulders. If Dean were to guess, he would have estimated her to be in her early thirties, perhaps slightly older. Right now, she clearly hadn't been counting on receiving any visitors, or so the sweatpants and loose sweater she was wearing indicated. They were standing in the yard of a small but well-kept house in one of the town's nicer neighbourhoods. It wasn't the house Mahony had stayed in prior to his disappearance, Dean knew. Instead, this house was owned by Cady's sister, who, according to the police case file, was a few years younger and an elementary school teacher. Right now, Dean knew, she wasn't at home, nor was the sister's husband, and it showed in the way that Cady was distrustfully keeping the door slightly closed, ready to slam it shut at the first sign of trouble.

"I already talked to the police a few days ago, what more do you want from me?" she spoke up angrily, a guarded expression framing her petite face.

"Please, may we come in? We would just like to check some of our facts, and ask a few more questions that the police may not have thought of previously. We believe your husband's case may be similar to the other disappearances we've been investigating".

Reluctantly, the redhead opened the door further to let them in. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. This part of playing FBI was always the hardest, as far as he was concerned. Once the people were convinced you were the real deal, they would let you get away with asking strange questions, most of the time anyway. Gaining enough trust to be able to do so was the key to it, and it proved difficult regardless how often they had done so before. No matter how many difficulties Cady and her husband had faced in the past, the woman was clearly grieving and as such wary to dredge up the entire story again.

"So, you got a way of finding the bastard yet? I want my papers signed".

Then again, maybe grieving didn't quite cover it.

"Mrs Mahony, did you notice anything unusual about your husband in the days before he disappeared? Did he behave strangely, maybe in a way that was unlike him?" Dean asked.

"Besides sleeping with that skank from the Berrinton family? No, I don't think so. Then again, who knows? It wasn't as if he was talking with me". She snorted derisively. The brothers exchanged looks. Now what?

"What about your house? Did you notice anything out of place in the house, cold spots or anything?"

"No, I didn't", Cady frowned. "Do you think somebody was watching him? Everything seemed normal, I guess. Well, except that I found out about his little affair and we are getting a divorce as soon as he returns and signs the damned papers".

Dean nodded and from the corner of his eyes he saw Sam do the same. "What about the night he disappeared? What happened then?" his brother spoke up.

"Well, he'd gone to work in the morning. Never mentioned anything to me about going somewhere at night. Actually, he even called me after work to say he was coming home".

"And when was that?"

"Look, shouldn't you know this already?" the woman asked, stopping her explanations to glare at them suspiciously.

"We do, actually", Sam reassured her. "We're just fact checking, really".

"Very well then, I talked to him around five thirty in the afternoon. I wasn't really worried at first, you know? He was prone to driving around for a bit, touring the country side as he called it. At least, that's what he always told me. When he never came home that night, I called the police".

"And you were still living in the same house then?"

She shook her head. "No, I wasn't. I had been waiting for him at our old home, to talk with him about getting divorced and he knew it. I returned to my sister's place for the night when he didn't show up, and went back in the morning".

"So how did you know he never came home?" Dean leaned forward.

He's not one to get up early. I have lived with him for more than a decade, I should know". She pointedly spoke. "Look, I don't know what more to tell you. I already told the police everything and frankly, I want nothing more to do with this. It's hard enough knowing he was sleeping around behind my back".

For the first time in the course of the conversation, her voice trembled with emotion as she spoke. Dean knew they shouldn't push her any further, as did Sam. Simultaneously, they stood up, effectively ending the questioning.

"Alright, that's all. Thank you for your time", Sam politely said. Cady nodded and, with a polite but forced smile, shook hands and told them to have a nice day.

"So, what do you think? Do you suppose she's telling the truth?" Dean asked as soon as Cady had closed the door. To him, the woman mostly just seemed angry and upset at her husband. For a fleeting moment, Dean entertained the notion that she might've caused the disappearance of the guy herself, but then just as quickly dismissed the thought. It didn't seem likely in the face of the other incidences in the area.

"I don't know yet", his brother answered pensively. "It seems to be the case, but then again, she is angry at the guy. And worried as well, probably, even though she doesn't want to show this".

"It looks like there might be a Woman in White active, you know. The one we took down in Jericho seemed to pick whoever travelled past her highway. And Mahony was returning from his work, so we know he vanished somewhere between there and here. Also, the other victims are all from different places, but they disappeared when travelling as well", Sam continued.

Dean nodded, and opened the door of his car. "Could be. We don't know for sure though. So, what do you want to do next? Talk to the family of the other guys?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah, I think they'll tell the same thing as Cady, and the woman we visited yesterday. No strange happenings around the house, nothing. So, I suppose we should hit the library. See if there are any violent deaths in the history of this town".

"Oh, joy", the eldest muttered, as he started the car and turned it back to the town's small centre, where the library was located. The Impala's tires screeched across the pavement as he roughly drove away. He hated research.

* * *

><p>Dean sighed as he leant back into his chair, stretching out his arms behind his head as he did so. He spared a quick glance at the clock and heaved an even bigger sigh. They had been at this for two hours already, and so far they had found nothing. It seemed if there ever was a town where the people were dull and nothing shocking or violent ever happened, they had found it. The irony of the situation didn't escape him. A town right next to a place called Hell's Half Acre, where nothing exciting ever happened. What were the odds? The closest the hunters had come to finding their Woman in White was the case of Emily Brighton, a twenty-five year old bartender who found out that her high school sweetheart, whom she had just married, was sleeping with her best friend. She committed suicide and, being in an early stage of pregnancy, she had unknowingly killed her unborn child. Was that enough to create a Woman in White? Dean doubted it.<p>

"It doesn't make any sense", he heard his brother mutter from where he was seated at the table. "There is no mention of anything that could create a Woman in White. Even the victims themselves don't make much sense".

"What do you mean? They were all men, they all cheated on their wives", Dean snapped. Hours of researching had made him tense and frustrated.

"Yeah, but those two boys? They were eight years old for crying out loud, probably didn't even have a girlfriend yet".

"Well, maybe they did. Or maybe they really did run away, just like the cops said".

"I don't know," Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "Cheating on their girlfriends might be a possibility, but it seems a bit, well, petty, doesn't it? When you compare it to the others? Especially considering that relationships on that age mostly consist of being best buddies?"

"Do you think a ghost cares about petty crimes, Sam?" Dean asked roughly. "Besides, didn't dad always say that those bitches had a special bond with children, and would sometimes even go as far as taking them with them?"

"I suppose so. Some folk tales have described a Woman in White as 'walking the country at night in a bloody dress, crying out for her murdered children'. These tales go on to describe that if she finds any child, she's likely to 'carry it away with her to the nether regions, where her own spirit dwells'", Sam quoted. "So they sometimes are described as child takers. But still, what about the violent death that's supposed to happen? We didn't find anything on any women dying violently here, after killing her kids. So how do we explain that?"

"Well, that we couldn't find it doesn't mean it's not there. Could be there just wasn't anything published about it, which wouldn't surprise me really. Secrets like that, well, who would want that written about them? I say we keep digging 'till we find something that points in some direction".

"I agree, but still. The timeframe is very small, which would suggest a recent death or suicide of a woman to have happened, but it's just not there. These kinds of ghosts don't take a vacation, Dean, or decide after decades of rest to suddenly start killing. Also, the number of disappearances is way higher than usual in these cases".

"So it could be something else?"

"Could be", Sam agreed. "We just need to keep searching, until we find something that tells us what we're dealing with".

"Right", Dean drawled as he looked at his brother. Sam didn't pay him any attention though, instead rifling through the papers Dean recognised as the case files they'd conned the cops into handing over. The eldest rolled his eyes. Of course Sammy wouldn't listen to his older brother; after all, there were papers in front of him, with letters on them that formed words. What could possibly be more exciting than that? Dean very much doubted the younger man would notice a herd of elephants stampeding through the room, once he truly got into reading all that crap.

"Dean, get this. The drug addict..."

"What drug addict?" Dean interrupted, wearing a puzzled frown. What did drugs have to do with the case?

"The one I told you about earlier". Sam glared at him and continued. "That guy, he vanished as well. But according to this, he didn't have a girlfriend at the time. Loads of dates with different girls, but no steady relationship".

"Could be he's lying dead in a ditch somewhere from OD'ing, had a bad trip and moved to Mexico, or whatever. Perhaps that one's unrelated to the case. Hey, maybe he cheated in the past. I'm pretty sure that counts, too".

"Not according to this. But Dean, if he disappeared because whatever we're hunting got to him, and he didn't have a girlfriend, didn't cheat at all, we could be dealing with something else".

"We'll see", Dean looked at the clock. It was nearly five pm already, he was tired of researching and besides, he knew for a fact that the library was almost closing up for the day. Not that he had checked the opening hours, but by the way the little old lady behind the desk near the entrance had steadily been glaring at them for the past fifteen minutes, he knew they had probably overstayed their welcome. "But not now, we've been here for hours and I'm starving!"

* * *

><p>He was running as fast as his legs could carry him. The man had never felt fear like this, urging him on over the small path through the canyon. The structures that rose beside him appeared dark and foreboding in the light of the setting sun, but he paid no mind to the beauty of the nature around him as he normally would have done. The rocky landscape, that once before appeared so beautiful to him, now seemed to hold a dark promise. You're never getting out, it seemed to tell him. She's gonna get you, it seemed to mock. He didn't know where she was; if she still was behind him or if she would emerge from one of the shadows cast upon the path in front of him. A laughing whisper filled the air, faint but echoing clearly through the canyon, making it hard for him to determine from where it came.<p>

Terror flooded the police officer. Eugene stumbled, hand shooting out to keep him upright and moving. He didn't even feel it as the hard rock scraped the first layer of skin from his palm, nor did he feel the warm sensation of blood running over his fingers, however, the thing that was chasing him noticed; for a bark of excited laughter escaped her.

Why, why did this have to happen to him? The officer didn't understand, but didn't stop to think about it. Wild fear had long since taken a hold of him, leaving no room for conscious thought. Instead, a mantra of 'run, run, RUN RUN RUN' was pounding through his head.

'You can't hide', the voice mocked somewhere on the right. 'You can't run'.

In response, Eugene tried to put even more speed in his steps. His flight came to a sudden and abrupt stop, however, as his feet suddenly left the ground.

The middle-aged officer felt gravity pulling his body down the steep slope, rolling and rolling until he came to a harsh stop against one of Hell's Half Acre's famous stalagmite-like structures. Pain flooded his senses and stars erupted behind his closed eyelids. Frozen in terror, he stayed down, hoping against all odds that she would stay away.

Soft footsteps sounding through the otherwise silent canyons made Eugene force his eyes open. Dazed, he stared up to the figure in front of him, the rising dark of night blurring her features. An unrecognisable feeling shot through the man. 'This is it', he thought. 'This is what death looks like'.

"Why?" he managed to find his voice to ask. The thing (for it could not be anything other than a thing, he refused to think of it as human) answered him, humour laced through her melodious voice.

"Because you deserve it".

He didn't have time to scream.

* * *

><p>Rock music blared through the speakers of the small yet profitable pub in the town's small centre, the words to the current song lost to the ears of the people gathered in the bar. The various conversations floating around the room drowned out most of the music; the background noise that occurred when many people attempt to converse simultaneously a constant buzz in Dean's ears. The atmosphere was considerably relaxed, yet an undertone of tension remained noticeable. This feeling was not uncommon to the hunter. Very often he had felt this kind of tense anticipation, as was common in small villages where people disappeared without warning. It was a sense of excitement and fear: lives which had felt chronically dull were shaken up, and gossip suddenly flew everywhere. Mostly it was about the men that had vanished, or their family. Did you know that he was sleeping with his secretary? How's his wife holding up? In his head, Dean could vividly imagine the conversations. Yet a sense of fear filled up the atmosphere as well, for who knew when you could be next?<p>

Tonight, the hunter didn't want to think about the case though. He took a long sip from his beer and looked around the place. Across the room, he could see Sam talking to a couple of guys, undoubtedly discussing their victims and fishing for new information. Dean ruefully shook his head. His brother was like that, all work and no play. At least, he was like that whenever he visited a bar.

"Are you listening to me?" a voice shook him out of his thoughts, and he refocused on the woman in front of him.

"Of course. So, what happened then?"

She had been telling him all about her time in the city of Angels, when she had been trying to make it as an actress. Though Dean held no particular interest in the story and she obviously had failed in her attempts, he ran his gaze appreciatively over her body. She certainly had the looks to make it as an actress, he noticed right away. Long black hair framed her face and fell straight down to her lower back. She was beautiful, no doubt about that. Large, bright blue eyes looked out from under thick lashes and Dean found he really couldn't stop looking at her full, lipstick-covered lips, which were moving as she talked.

"And he told me my acting was horrible, can you imagine that?"

"Unbelievable", Dean muttered. She nodded vigorously.

"I agree. So, naturally I told him…"

"So why didn't you take up modelling? You look like you could be a model", Dean broke her story off. For a second, Dean thought he could see a predatory look flash through those eyes, but it vanished before he could properly identify it, and the woman preened under his attention instead.

"Well", she started. Before she could start of on another story, the ringing of a cell phone going off interrupted her.

"Hang on", Dean searched through his pockets for his phone. He frowned slightly at the number on the display, and picked up.

"Cas", he began. "Now is really not a good time…"

"Dean", the gravelly voice on the other end of the line began, "I've found out some things, it's important".

"Alright, what is it?" the hunter asked. Beside him, he could sense the black-haired beauty shifting restlessly. Silently, he cursed his friend for his timing.

"I'll tell you in person, it's safer. Where are you now?"

Dean turned slightly and softly answered to prevent being overheard. Though the bar was loud, and he had to strain his ears to understand what Cas was saying, you could never be careful enough, he reasoned.

"We're in Wyoming, Hells Half Acre. Won't be difficult to find, there's one motel at the edge of town, room eight".

"I'll be there", the angel promised.

"Yeah, alright, see you soon", Dean told him, voice returning to a normal volume. He hung up and put his phone back. He then turned to the woman with an expectant smile on his face, which disappeared when he saw the murderous glare she was aiming at him.

"Cas? What, is she your girlfriend or something? Are you trying to cheat on her?" she demanded, voice rising with the beginnings of anger. "You think I'm that cheap, that I would just sleep with you while you got somebody keeping your bed warm at home?"

"No, not at all", Dean exclaimed startled. "_He_'s a friend of mine".

She looked at his face for a long moment, as if she was gauging whether he was telling the truth. Finally, she nodded and immediately seemed to calm down. "You don't have a girlfriend", she concluded resolutely.

"No, I don't". Dean shook his head ruefully. Women. They were all psycho.

"So, you want another drink?" he offered, trying to fill the awkward silence that had started after Cas' phone call. She shrugged, eyes straying to glower at the back of the pub, and Dean decided to take that as a yes, still unconvinced that the dark look which had returned to her eyes had to do with him. He turned to the bar and waved at the barkeeper.

"One beer, one Martini please. Dry, no ice".

When he had ordered, and paid for the drinks, he turned back. There was no sign of the black-haired woman. Frowning, he searched the room with his eyes. It was crowded, yes, but not crowded enough that he wouldn't be able to spot her easily. She simply wasn't there, wasn't sitting in one of the booths lining the far wall, nor was she standing in the crowd around the bars only pool table. She couldn't have gone to the bathroom, the door was to the left of the bar, and Dean was sure he would have noticed if she had gone that way. It was as if she'd vanished into thin air. Frowning, he made his way to Sam, who was still standing with the group of guys near the exit, the two drinks in his hand.

"Have you seen a woman pass by?" he asked as he pushed the Martini unceremoniously in his brother's hand.

"What, the supermodel type?" one of the guys interjected as Sam shook his head. "She left, man. And she wasn't alone. I saw Jerry exit soon after her".

Dean frowned. "What, like he was following her?"

The guy shook his head. "No, man. He's not like that. More like, discretely leaving with him. They had been talking earlier tonight".

"Though luck", one of the others said to Dean.

The blond sighed. He could sense the laughter in the look Sam sent him, and knew he would be hearing about this for a while.

"Looks like you were stood up", his brother teased.

Yeah, he would be hearing about this, indeed. For a very, very long time.

"Alright, shut up and let's go home, Sammy", Dean growled, good mood ruined for the night. He had been sure she had been checking him out during their conversation. Could he be wrong? Or didn't she believe him, when he told her he honestly didn't have a girlfriend? He drank the last of his beer and put the empty glass on a table near him. With a glance at Sam, both brothers left the bar, stepping out onto the pavement of the well-lit parking lot. A light drizzle had started falling down from the sky, in contrast to the sunny, bright day that preceded it; soon the weather would fully turn. Dean tried to reassure himself as they started the trek back to the motel, still feeling sore about coming second to a loser named 'Jerry'. They would have to get up early the next day, he reasoned, so it probably was for the better he didn't go out with the girl. The sting of her running out on him didn't let off, though. Briefly, he wondered if he had said something to scare her off, then abruptly cut of that trail of thought. Her loss, anyway, he thought smugly to himself.

Though the hunters didn't know it at the time, somewhere miles away, in a dark, damp cave far from modern society, Eugene Warrick reawakened, his eyes wide open yet forever unseeing.


	6. The Assassination of Lincoln

_A/N: New chapter.. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>The Assassination of Lincoln<strong>

* * *

><p>A burning stab of pain ran through his upper body, as he felt the tip of the long silver double-edged dagger slice into the skin right beneath his left arm. He had managed to avert the attack; if he hadn't, he was sure the blade would have cut clean into his torso, most-likely resulting in a lethal wound. As he fell over and grabbed his ribs in agony, he witnessed the blade flying out of his attacker's hand. The pain was excruciating, much worse than it should be, he fleetingly thought, as he crawled towards the blade, but before he could reach, his attacker kicked him in his guts and he rolled over, trying to get away from the attacker's reach. The action was in vain though, for he was grabbed by his coat and lifted off the ground. He could now look his attacker in the eyes, his vision still blurred and his lungs filling with blood. Nonetheless he realised those eyes belonged to his brother, Emanuel, and fear filled his entire being.<p>

_Castiel…_

"W-why?", he managed to stutter through the blood clogging his throat. His head was spinning and he heard his brother laughing, but it was a dull noise, a distant laughter seeming to come from far away. He slammed into something really hard behind him. A tall tree, he noted woozily. Then, just within his reach, he saw something glistering from the corner of his eyes, a long silver shape, he would only have to reach out his hand. He grabbed the dagger and pushed himself upwards, holding on to the tree behind him and then he felt his brother's presence right beside him, grabbing him. In reflex he drove the dagger into his brother's chest. A blinding light of pure white escaped from Emanuel's orifices as the dagger pierced his heart.

_Castiel…_

* * *

><p>"Castiel…"<p>

He slowly opened his eyes and needed some time to focus, the memories of before fading to the back of his mind. His head was spinning and he felt sick to his stomach as he regained his breath. The radio that had been playing in the car moments before had stopped and he could see smoke coming from the car's engine. He was still strapped up tightly in the seatbelt, which he had found very useful when Hael had tried to kidnap him all those weeks ago.

He could feel blood dripping from his forehead; his arms were hanging weakly beside his body. He slowly lifted his right arm, unbuckled his seatbelt. Gravity pulled him forward onto the steering wheel, and he clumsily tried to open the car's door. His attempts were in vain. The door had been crushed into the frame and although he normally would have no problem pushing it back out, right now his strength had failed him and panic raced through his body. He had to get out of this confinement, and soon too, if he didn't want to be a sitting duck. He found it harder and harder to breathe and with every breath he could feel a burst of pain radiating from his ribs. His head felt cloudy and the world seemed to be fading out regularly.

Only then did he realise the passenger's side door had been ripped from its hinges and he crawled towards the gap, pushing himself out of the vehicle, falling to his knees on the hard, stone cold ground, feeling the drizzle on his face. His headache lessened somewhat by the cool water, as he turned his attention towards the car, or what remained of it.

The whole front had been crushed, the upholstering torn from its frame. The champagne coloured sheet metal had been crumpled as if it was made of tin foil and the right front wheel was missing completely.

He felt his knees and hands wetting in the watery mud he had landed in; mud that was mixed with oil and gasoline leaking from the busted carter and gas tank. His vision had cleared a little and he realised the car had slammed into a gigantic rock, after it had been run off the road by the large, black pick-up truck that had been chasing him for the last couple of miles. The only reason he hadn't flown out of the car down into the ravine below was the seatbelt. It had very well nearly choked him on impact, though.

He slowly crawled back up to the road through the brown-coloured streams that were running downhill, coughing and blood dripping into his eyes. His breathing stuttered momentarily, due to a blinding pain running through his chest and, in anguish, he fell to the ground and felt himself sliding back down the hill. Instinctively, he grabbed his ribs. It took him a few moment to catch his breath and refocus on his surroundings. He repressed the agony and slowly started his way back up again. He needed to get up, get away.

"Castiel…", a familiar voice approached him the moment he got to the road and he managed to get to his feet, looking up to whoever the voice belonged to in apprehension. He managed to heal the internal damage that had been done to his body by the car crash, but he found himself too weak to heal all of the exterior wounds as well.

A red-haired woman, who seemed to be in her forties, wearing a pair of jeans and a homemade woollen sweater, was approaching him. She seemed like an ordinary woman, but Cas knew better, knew how dangerous she really was, for he could see her true form behind the face of the vessel she was possessing.

"You have been one hard angel to find, but you cannot run forever", she grinned as an angel blade appeared in her right hand. "Look at you, you are one big mess", she sneered.

Cas could see the cuts and bruises on his hands, where glass from the windshield that had shattered in the crash had sliced into them. He had felt blood running down his cheek, leaving drops hanging on his chin, which had now been subjected to gravity. His head was pounding and he reached out to it, trying to lessen the pain, however it did not seem to help. Looking at his hand, he found it came back tainted with crimson blood.

"A car crash will do that to you, Ariel", he replied as he tried to remain upright, despite the fact that his legs kept threatening to crumble beneath the weight of his body. "What do you want from me? Why are you here? I have already tried to explain, I had no idea what Metatron was up to, I thought I was fixing Heaven", he spoke, his voice hoarse and breathing heavy.

He could feel a presence approaching him from behind and his muscles tensed up, his blade appeared from up his sleeve and he wrapped his hand around it tightly. In a split second he whirled around to face the figure that had appeared behind him and drove his dagger between his ribs. He pulled it back out as he watched the grace extinguish from the angel's eyes. Turning back to Ariel he realised she wasn't where she had been earlier.

In reflex he slammed the angel blade that was stabbed towards him out of its intended path, thus avoiding Ariel's attack. He felt his ribs scrape as Ariel rammed her knee into his stomach and blood filled his lungs, forcing the air out, making it feel as if he was drowning. He bent over in pain, retching for a moment, the taste of bile and blood filling his mouth. A forceful cough overtook him as blood dribbled from his mouth, causing an all-consuming agony emanating from his ribs. He realised he had to somehow mend his wounds or he would surely bleed to death, but his grace had been mostly repressed. He wouldn't stand a chance against Ariel if he summoned his last ounce of strength to stop the bleeding, so either way, he would be dead. The coughing and the pain it was causing, was getting too much to bear and he knew he didn't have a choice, he had to fight.

He managed to get to his feet soon after, lashing out at the angel, but his attempt failed and he almost fell over again, but managed to remain standing. Another angel appeared aside him and he felt a burning pain running through his entire body. The angel had driven a dagger into his side. In anguish he fell to his knees, tears of pain stinging his eyes. He then felt his body lifting from the ground and smacking into the cliff on the other side of the road.

The impact of the hard, unforgiving rock with his back caused his vision to white out. The cold rain numbed his senses even more as he laid stunned on the muddy ground against the large wall of rock. The smell of the gasoline on his clothes pierced through his nostrils, magnifying the nausea, caused by the knee in his stomach he received earlier. His clothes, tainted with oil and gasoline, stinging on his bruised skin, intensified the already excruciating pain from the stab wound in his side and his crushed ribs that was radiating through his body.

Numbness slowly subsided from his limbs as he watched the angels approach through his blurred vision. He cowered as terror filled his entire essence. He shivered as a cold wind picked up and he tried to get up. He had to get away, but his body was too weak to even move. In fear he watched the two blurry figures come closer and closer until his vision turned black.

* * *

><p>From afar she bore witness to the intriguing game between the two vehicles travelling on the deserted road which led to the barren grounds of Hell's Half Acre. The first one was an old-looking champagne-coloured car, followed by a larger black pick-up truck, moving with tension as if they were dancing a tango. Sometimes the old car managed to outrun the pick-up truck, but it never managed to leave it far behind; the truck always caught quickly up after. Other times the pick-up was trying to push the champagne-coloured car out of the way, causing the rear tires to skid.<p>

The locals knew the lonesome winding dirt road would get very slippery in the rain, but these two were either ignorant or just flat-out foolish, she thought as she watched the vehicles tearing down the road recklessly. For quite a while the old Lincoln managed to stay on the road, until it lead uphill and the pick-up rammed it once more towards the edge of the cliff. The car looked like it tripped on a small rock near the scarp, causing the driver to lose control. The car flew over the edge in a diagonal angle, tumbling down the hill, until it smashed upright into a large rock, saving it from rolling all the way down the large cliff.

Curiosity overtook her mind as she witnessed the old Lincoln's descent and she moved towards the smoke that was billowing from the car's smashed hood. As she got closer, it appeared to her that the passenger's side door and front wheel had been separated from the vehicle during the event. As she approached the crashed car, a red-haired woman stepped out of the black pick-up truck, still on the road and soon she was filled with contempt. Another one of those sickening mindless winged creatures, she thought even as she took to observing the Lincoln. The windshield had been shattered and most of the car had been crushed. Gasoline and oil were running downhill from underneath the squashed metal frame. The driver had been bleeding quite extensively, she reckoned by the amount of blood that tainted the car's interior, however he had managed to escape the constricting wreckage. A blood trail led up the muddy hill and she followed it, listening to the noise coming from the dirt road as she did so.

Another pompous, conceited cretin had appeared, stabbing a dark-haired man, who must have been the driver of the Lincoln by the looks of it, with a silver double-edged dagger. The man was no ordinary man however, she acknowledged. He had a certain aura around him that suggested an angelic presence, but it was nothing like the other two arrogant foul dogs, who seemed to be bent on killing him. The man, wearing a long, thin coat, tainted with filth and blood, fell to his knees as the dagger was pulled out of his flank. His blue eyes seemed dull and pleading for help and she could read the all-consuming agony from his face.

For reasons unknown, feelings of distress overwhelmed her as she watched the guy get slammed into the high wall of rock. As his limp body fell to the floor she felt her heart racing. She couldn't help but feeling the need to do something, to help this man, even if he was an angel.

Even as the two obtuse, dim-witted halos ominously approached the unconscious man, her glance was averted to the shiny silver stiletto, lying on the floor in a pool of crimson blood, where the man had just been stabbed. She was drawn to it, carefully picked up the double-edged weapon off the floor and turned towards the affair…

* * *

><p>"Cas! You've got to get up! You can't just lay here!", a familiar voice filled with terror exclaimed which instilled his heart with fear. Dean… He looked around the grey horizon, but couldn't figure out where the voice was coming from.<p>

"Dean?" he called out. His head was hurting immensely and he realised he was trembling as he tried to stay upright. Why did he feel so weak? He seemed to be alone, incredibly alone he noted as there wasn't a bird in the sky, nor a worm in the ground. Then, suddenly, he felt a presence behind him and whirled around, taking a step back in the process. Dean.

"Cas, listen to me, you need to wake up, you're in danger", Dean urged him as he laid his hand on his shoulder and stared into his eyes intensely.

"Dean, what are you talking about? There's no one here". He gave Dean a puzzled look as his mind was racing, trying to figure out what his friend meant. The worried look in Dean's eyes made him feel sick to his stomach and his head was pounding even more. He felt he had to do something, go somewhere, but couldn't figure out what it was.

"Cas, look around, this is not real, I am not real and you are in danger. Come on, buddy, wake up", Dean anxiously pleaded.

Not real? He wasn't dreaming, that was for sure, he would have known, he had been dream walking often enough. He felt as if he was forgetting something, something important. It was nagging at his brain, he could almost catch whatever it was he had to remember, but it seemed to be slipping away every time he tried to think of it. He had been searching for something. Gadreel, he had been searching for Gadreel, but that wasn't it, he knew for sure, it had to be something else. He turned to look around him again. The landscape appeared almost moon-like, grey and gloomy and the horizon seemed to blend with the dark dim sky. Other than the wind, there was no sound and he could hear every beat of his own heart.

"Dean…", he started off, but realised the hunter was gone when he turned back to where his friend had been moments before. Where had he gone? What was going on? This wasn't real, he told himself again and the thought of it filled him with fear. He realised he was on his way to Dean, because he had to tell him something. He knew it was important, otherwise he would have just told him over the phone. Right, he had called him when he left the… Left where? Had he found whatever it was he had been looking for? He felt the frustration rushing through his mind as he tried to grasp the memory that was escaping him. He was looking for something important and after he had called Dean, he was going to meet him in person to bring him the news, tell him he hadn't been able to find it… A weapon…and it had been gone. That was it, the ancient weapon he had been searching for had been gone before he could get to it, Gadreel had been able to retrieve it before he could reach it.

Then where was he now? He nearly collapsed, but managed to hold himself up, clinging to a large, solid wall of stone. His aching head was getting almost unbearable and he sat himself down gently, leaning with his back against the cold rock. He closed his eyes, trying to figure it out, trying to grasp reality.

Two figures were approaching him, imminent and merciless, consuming him with terror. Ariel. They were going to kill him. He remembered his crashing into a large rock, halfway down the cliff, the angel blade penetrating his flank. Why did he stab him there and not right in his heart? He could have easily killed him, he wouldn't have stood a chance, but he didn't fatally wound him. He just injured him without intent to kill. Why did he do that? If it wasn't revenge they were after, then what?

_Cas, you have to wake up…_ Dean's voice was resounding in his head, pulling him from his thoughts. _You have to wake up…_

* * *

><p>The world seemed blurry as he found the strength to slowly open his eyes a little. The rain was pouring down on him, feeling cold on his trembling body. A soft groan escaped his mouth as he tried to move, feeling a burning ache radiating through his torso. Slowly he regained consciousness and awareness of his surroundings. Then he felt a flare of panic as he remembered what happened. He had to get out of here, get up and move, but he felt so incredibly tired. He reached with his hand towards a piece of rock sticking out of the wall and tried to pull himself up, biting the immense pain away. He was short on breath when he finally got to his feet and his head was spinning.<p>

He quickly glanced around to find his attackers, but he didn't see them at first, but when he looked down he realised their bodies laid dead before him. In total confusion and distress he looked around him, trying to find any trace of what had happened, but he found none. The angels were just dead and the only one around was Cas himself. Cautiously he allowed himself to relax a little, the immediate danger had been averted, even though he did not know how it has happened. One thing he knew for certain, it wasn't him – someone or something else had saved him. He remembered sensing another presence somewhere around, just before he had passed out. He didn't know what it was, but he was sure it had saved him.

He had to get to Sam and Dean, he reminded himself and looked at the muddy dirt road. It was leading upward onto a hill and a far distance away he could see a small contour in the darkness, which had to be the motel Dean had said they were staying at.

He gently started moving forward, guiding himself by the unmoving wall that was present along the entire winding road. He slipped at times, falling to his knees in the mud, only to pick himself up again, for he had no other choice but trying to get to the motel. Sam and Dean would be there and they would help him, keep him safe, he reminded himself constantly whenever he felt he couldn't continue.

He finally reached the door of the room Dean had told him to come to, number 6. His heart filled with relief. He could barely stand up and had to hold on to the door post. His legs were trembling underneath the weight of his body and the immense pain he had felt earlier had turned numb somewhere on his way here; his head was getting cloudy and his vision blurred in and out of focus. It took a lot of effort to lift his arm and knock on the door, but he felt a sense of security as he saw Dean's face when the door opened.

"Cas?! What the… Sam!"

He could still see the younger brother rushing to the door, but soon after the world went black.


	7. The Song Remains The Same

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but we finally managed to find some time to finish this chapter! The good news is: the next chapter is almost finished and, depending on how much time we'll be able to spare next week, we hope to publish it somewhere during the next weekend. _

* * *

><p><strong>The Song Remains The Same<strong>

* * *

><p>The silence in the motel room felt slightly oppressive to Sam, who was sitting in one of the only two chairs available in the room, his laptop open and running in front of him. He had been trying to put the pieces of their hunt together. So far, he had had no success and was forced to give up for now; at least until a new development presented itself or Dean came back with new information. Sam frowned at the thought of his sibling. He had run out like the hounds of hell were chasing him (come to think of it, that wasn't quite as good a phrase anymore to use in regards to his brother; not since he had literally been ripped apart by those things) as soon as the heavy rain had let up, a few hours ago. The guy had muttered something about the bar they had visited the previous evening, leaving Sam alone in the dreary motel room.<p>

Well, not quite alone. Sam looked over to the bed furthest from the door, and the still figure resting on top of it. Should he start worrying already? Castiel had yet to move, and it had been a few hours since the celestial being had lost consciousness. The hunter had to admit he was at a loss on how to best approach the situation. The angel had knocked on their door earlier that evening, a sorry sight, bedraggled and wounded, and then proceeded to pass out in their doorway. Sam had barely managed to catch the guy.

The brothers had attempted to clean him up to the best of their abilities, stripping him of his wet clothes (though Dean had drawn the line at removing his trousers, claiming he wasn't about to find out whether the angel wore underwear or not. Anyway, he had argued, Cas could very well patch up everything below the belt himself, after he woke up that is. Of course this was after Sam and Dean had checked that he wasn't bleeding beneath the admittedly dirty cloth). Sam remembered stifling a small gasp when they had uncovered a large variety of wounds on the angel's torso. Dark bruising had covered Castiel's ribs, back and stomach. Some ribs had obviously been broken and had to be set, Sam recalled. They had cleaned up and bandaged the gashes covering the angel's skin and then, not knowing what else to do, Dean had turned up the heat in the small motel room. The angel hadn't woken up once during the process, and the worst thing was that they didn't know whether it was normal for his kind to act like this. So for now, all they could do was wait.

Sam sighed and absentmindedly removed his outer shirt. The heat was stifling in the small room, yet Castiel still remained ice cold. Could angels get hypothermic? Sam frowned as the question ran through his mind. Should he cover Cas with a blanket or something?

He was shaken from his thoughts by a disturbance of the silence around him; a small sound, coming from the other end of the room. He sat up straighter, listening intently. Was that..? Or had he imagined it? Sam didn't think so. No, there it was again, a soft sound, caught between a moan and a sigh. Hesitantly, he turned around and looked at the bed. The angel was slowly turning his head from side to side, shivering softly as another, slightly louder groan slipped between pale, previously blue-tinged lips.

"Cas? Hey, Cas!" Sam called out as he crossed the distance to the bed. "Cas?"

The angel did not wake, he noticed. Worried, he put his hand on Castiel's shoulder, and lightly shook it, marvelling at how cold the skin felt once more. The still figure didn't respond, but let loose another small sound. Sam frowned. To all appearances, the guy looked like he was having a nightmare. Remembering all the times he had caught Dean in the throes of fear in the middle of the night, and the times his brother had repaid the favour to him, whether Sam was remembering things from the Cage or dealing with a particularly bad hunt, he started a soft but firm litany of words. He made sure to keep his voice soft, but firm, talking loud enough to be heard but not as loud as to appear intimidating.

"You're okay, Cas. You're safe, in our motel room. Nobody's going to harm you, you're safe here".

Bright blue eyes opened half-way, slowly tracing the room without focus. With a small moan, the angel closed his eyes again. A violent shiver travelled through his body, Sam felt from where his hand was still resting on his friend's shoulder.

"Cas, hey, hey! Can you open your eyes again?" Sam broke his murmuring as he noticed Castiel becoming more aware of his situation, even though the angel stubbornly kept his eyes closed.

"S'm?" the angel slurred. The word, softly spoken as it was, barely managed to reach Sam's ears.

"It's me", he quietly reassured the angel. "How're you feeling?"

" 'm fine".

"Yeah, I doubt that", Sam chuckled, feeling much more relieved now that he gotten the angel to talk. "Why don't you rest a little bit more, huh?" he continued. A barely perceivable nod followed his suggestion, as the angel promptly lost consciousness once more. Sam sighed, feeling the worry from earlier leaving his body. Cas probably would be fine, with a little bit of rest. He frowned at the muddy smears and wet spots the angel's trousers had left on his bed, then grinned wickedly as an idea came to him. Standing up, he reached out and yanked the blankets from the bed closest to the door, covering the angel with them. The angel needed all the warmth he could get, after all. Dean wouldn't mind him borrowing his blankets.

* * *

><p>Memories flashed by quicker than his mind could grasp in its fevered state. A silver, gleaming blade; a car swerving out to narrowly avoid colliding with another. Pain, lots and lots of agonizing feeling, stealing away all his other senses. A nameless face appeared before him, its mouth distorted in a ugly, triumphant grin. Pale, blue eyes, cold in their intensity. The edge of the roadside coming up fast as the car tumbled over it, coming to a sudden hard stop at the end of the cliff.<p>

"You cannot run forever", a voice drifted up from the abyss of his mind. It was accompanied by a blur of red hair, and he frowned. At least he thought he did. He could not remember. All he knew was he had to move, but his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. He panicked for a small moment, then couldn't remember why he was panicking. Where was he? What was wrong with him?

In his mind he saw a long, never-ending road. He was tired, so very tired. Yet he knew he had to keep moving, keep going on. He had to be somewhere, but where? His thoughts scattered as pain shot through his head. Something was wrong though. His Grace felt scattered, jaded and fading. An all-encompassing sense of wrongness enveloped him. He had to move, he wasn't safe!

"One big mess! You can't run forever.. One hard angel to find…" the voice continued in his mind.

'It wasn't my fault!' he wanted to scream, yet no words left his lips. If the voice responded, he couldn't understand the words. He was cold, so very cold. A shiver wrecked his body and agony coursed through his torso. He wanted to plead, wanted to tell them how afraid he had been, how alone, if only he knew who 'they' were. He wanted to give up, yet felt that something kept him going, but what? A vision drifted up of two figures, one very tall, but in his current state it faded before he could recognise them, before he could call out to them.

" 'kay, Cas… Mot'l roo.. 'Arm you, safe 'ere.."

Slowly, he became more aware of the firm voice penetrating through the fog that enveloped his mind. He was lying on something soft, he dimly noticed, but that wasn't right. It was a far cry from the hard surface he remembered, from the sharp, penetrating cold that had slowed his body as he was stumbling along to… Where to? He didn't know.

"You're okay, nobody's going to harm you.."

The words started making more sense; the voice speaking them becoming more familiar as awareness returned. He tried opening his eyes, but found the task harder than it should be, as if his eyelids suddenly had a will of their own. Stubbornly though he fought against the dark abyss that threatened to pull him back under, and spoke the name he thought might belong with the voice.

"Sam", he attempted to say. It didn't come out quite right, though.

The familiar timbre of the voice sounded again as the hunter answered him. It took a moment for him to understand the meaning of the words. His mind was working very slow, but when he understood he recognised the meaning behind them; his friend was worried.

"I'm fine", he wanted to reassure him, and he felt relieved at the laughter Sam responded with. It chased away the fear lingering in the back of his mind, even as his body was still wrecked with shivers and pain; even as the cold still penetrated his bones and his body felt like it had been torn apart. He felt muscles relax as he allowed himself to let down his guard and calm down. He was with Sam, his frayed mind told him. Dean too, probably. He was safe here. They wouldn't let anything happen to him. He was safe, for now. Before he allowed the dark to completely develop his mind, he faintly felt the sensation of something warm and soft being draped over him. Safe, he once more reminded himself as he sank deep into a healing sleep.

* * *

><p>"Another guy went missing".<p>

Those were the first words Sam heard when his brother had barged into the room, later that night. Sam remembered how he'd jumped to his feet, asking question after question. When had this happened? Who was it? And, most importantly, why? He remembered with clarity how Dean had told him it was the cop they had met before, Eugene; the guy that had showed them to Sandys' office just after they had arrived in town.

"No idea yet if the guy was a cheater, Sammy", Dean had exclaimed with a twinkle in his eyes, "but get this, the police is leaving the investigation to the FBI, to us!"

Sam had felt the same excitement rising up within him that he could see reflected in Dean's eyes. Maybe they could finally gain a solid lead, find somewhere they could actively look for clues as to what it was they were chasing. In the back of his mind, Sam had felt horrible that another guy had gone missing, but after feeling like they were going nowhere with the case for so long, they were entitled to some enthusiasm, right?

Of course, that excitement had faded over the hours, and now he mostly felt tired. He had opted to find out as much as he could about Eugene Warrick, foregoing sleep in favour of research. As Sam closed his laptop, he felt slightly jealous of Dean, who had crashed on his bed – after grumbling about his lack of blankets – and had slept soundly through the night, only waking up when Sam had ceased his research temporarily to get breakfast.

"No offense, Sam, but you look like crap", he was shaken from his thoughts by his brother, who was putting down the bag with take-away. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, and Sam silently held out his hand. Dean responded by keeping the carton cup just out of his reach and taking a sip from his own. "You should get some rest, we have a few hours to spare, you know".

His brother's voice was soft and had a small trace of concern underneath, but Sam stubbornly shook his head.

"I'm fine".

"Course you are", Dean sighed audibly. Sam frowned, and was about to retort, when he noticed a pair of blue eyes staring up at them.

"Cas!" he exclaimed. "You're awake!"

The angel managed to give him a slight smile, as he struggled to sit up. He seemed much more alert, as opposed to the previous evening. At that time, he had barely managed to keep his eyes open, much less move around or sit up.

"It appears so", Castiel dryly remarked. By now he had managed to get his feet under him and stand up. He was still swaying slightly however. Sam could see Dean hovering nearby, appearing a bit uncertain, as if he couldn't decide whether to help his friend or allow him some space. Cas was an independent guy, Sam knew, so he could understand the hesitation.

"Are you alright?" Sam gently asked.

Cas thought for a moment, seemingly evaluating his own health, then nodded at last. "I'm… better than I was before. Thank you, Sam", he said, referring to the previous evening, when Sam had reassured him and helped him through his nightmares.

"So, what happened to you?" Dean asked.

"I don't quite remember, It's all a bit blurry", Cas answered honestly. "I crashed my car, and walked here. How's not really important, but what I found out is".

Sam could tell there was more to the story than Castiel's driving skills, but didn't get the chance to ask, as the angel continued talking.

"I broke into the White House".

In the corner of his eyes, Sam could see Dean spitting out his coffee in surprise.

"You what?" the elder hunter exclaimed.

"Broke into the White House. It was actually easier than I expected it to be", Castiel mused. "I had evidence that Gadreel was looking for something very important – the weapon I told you about – and that it was located in DC. I had hoped to get there before he did, but…" The angel took a deep breath. "I was too late. He already took it".

"Hang on, Cas", Dean interrupted. "You saying that Gadreel took, what exactly? What's this weapon we're talking about?"

"It's the Spear of Destiny".

"The what?" No comprehension could be seen on Dean's face. Sam sighed impatiently, and answered in Castiel's stead. He had read about the spear before, a long time ago.

"It's a spear, Dean. The one that was used to stab Jesus in his side, I believe". He looked at the angel for confirmation, and got it.

"That's right", the angel nodded. "But it's much more than that. The spear harbours an immense power, and I believe that's what Gadreel is after. When wielded correctly, it can inflict an infinite amount of damage".

"How 'infinite' are we talking about, here?" Dean's voice had gained an edge to it, one that often came up when Dean heard something he particularly didn't like. Sam could relate to this. It was worrying, thinking a weapon of any kind had made its way to the angels, never mind one that could actually do a lot of damage.

"It's very powerful, on an apocalyptic scale", the angel admitted. "I believe it holds the potential to destroy continents, if not the entire world in one blow".

Sam blanched at the news. That much power? This could be very, very bad, he told himself. He looked at Dean. His sibling didn't as much as glance at him, however, instead maintaining a steady glare directed at Cas. Sam frowned. This couldn't possibly end well.

"You mean to tell me that Gadreel managed to get his hands on some kind of atomic bomb?" he said, voice low and dangerous. "And you're telling this now?"

A slight frown had made its way on Castiel's face. To Sam, it appeared as if the angel was puzzled by Dean's reaction. "I had told you I had something important to tell you, didn't I?" he repeated slowly.

"Damnit Cas, don't you think we should have known about it before he took it?" Dean exclaimed. "I told you, something happens, you tell us!"

"Nothing had happened yet, Dean, and you were busy. Besides, there's nothing you could have done", Cas defended himself.

"Busy doing what? We've been sitting on our asses at the bunker weeks before this, doing nothing at all and you know it! Maybe, if we'd known about it, we would've been on time! Do you have any idea what the angels could be doing with such power?"

"Dean…" Sam tried to interrupt, before the argument could get any more out of hand, but was ignored by both.

"I'm neither ignorant, nor foolish, Dean. I know exactly what angels are capable of".

"Then why do you keep slipping up like this? You screwed up, Cas, and you know it! Didn't I tell you last time that, if something major like this is going on, you tell us about it?"

"As I recall, you weren't exactly keen on helping me the last time I asked, weren't you? When I was human, and you practically threw me out?" An edge had crept into Castiel's voice as well, telling Sam that the angel was growing tired of the argument, and wasn't going to stand Dean's angry tone any longer.

"That was different, Cas! I had no choice, it was either that, or Sammy died!" Dean sounded enraged.

"Well, you certainly didn't think to tell me about that, didn't you?" If Sam didn't know any better, he would've thought Cas had finally gotten a grasp on sarcasm. The amusing thought was quickly lost on him however, as Dean had had enough as well.

"Gee, I don't know, Cas", the hunter began. "I was keeping Sam safe, what were you doing last time you kept something from us? I believe it was something like, well, releasing the leviathans in this world, playing God on a power trip and, not to forget, conspiring with a demon that we told you couldn't be trusted!"

It was a low blow, Sam thought. He knew how his brother thought, however, as he had seen – and experienced – this many times before. Once he got to arguing, Dean behaved exactly like the hunter he was, using every weapon he possessed to prove his point.

"And we forgave you for that", the elder sibling continued. He didn't sound as forgiving at this moment, however. "And what's the next thing you do? You start keeping things from us, again! And guess what, now we have to clean up your mess, again! Haven't you learned anything?"

"I told you what happened just now, didn't I?" The angel replied genuinely angry. "I had no obligation to tell you, but I did".

"Well, too little, too late Cas! If you think you had no 'obligation'", Dean quoted cynically, "to tell us, then we certainly are under no obligation to help you".

"I never said I needed your help", Castiel answered stubbornly. Inwardly, Sam winched and braced himself, getting ready for the following explosion from Dean.

"You don't need help? Tell that to yourself, the next time you pass out on our doorway!" Dean yelled incensed. "You know what, if you don't need our help, you can just go ahead and get out!"

Shaking with rage, he pointed towards the closed door.

"Get the hell out!"

* * *

><p><em>AN: Cliffhanger? What's that? :) Hope you enjoyed it!_


	8. The Aftermath

_A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Don't worry, you know the boys, they always make up eventually... ;-)_

* * *

><p><strong>The Aftermath<strong>

* * *

><p>"Dude, what the hell, man? What the hell was that all about?", he heard Sammy exclaim as they were driving out onto the road. His kid brother had dragged him out of the motel room, because they really needed to investigate the apparent disappearance of the front desk officer of the local police station, but Dean knew better.<p>

He had felt such anger boiling up inside him earlier, when Cas had told them about this friggin' spear. He couldn't even recall what he really was angry about, but lately it felt like they had encountered nothing but setbacks. First he watched his little brother almost die and when he tried to save him, another one of those douchebag halos had tricked him, Kevin dying, his newly received mark and then, of course, as the icing of the cake, there was Cas, who'd set out to find Gadreel and came back with nothing. He never meant to take it out on the angel, of course he knew he had done all he could and it was not his fault at all that he hadn't been able to find Gadreel, but it had made him so angry to find out once again that the angel was holding back important information, once again didn't ask for help when he needed it and now once again they would need to clean up his mess, which surely could have been avoided is he'd only come to them earlier.

For a moment, something inside him had snapped and he had taken it out on his closest friend. If it hadn't been for Sammy, he would have succeeded in chasing Cas away, again, throwing him out without further thought. At the time Sam had dragged him out against his will, apologizing to Cas for his actions and reassuring him that, of course, he was always welcome to stay with them and that they would help him, no matter what. Right then and there he was ready to keep firing at Cas, hoping this way the anger inside him would subside. Now, though, he was really glad his kid brother had jumped in and told Cas to stay, rest and heal up completely. Cas had been ready to walk out the door, but even a fool could see he was still weakened by whatever had happened to him on his way to the motel. Only then did he realise he hadn't even asked about what had happened to him and he could've really kicked himself for it.

"Nothing, okay", he snapped, almost immediately blaming himself again for his hostile reaction towards Sammy. He was just so sick and tired of the interrogation every time he seemed a little irritated or a little off. He just really wasn't in the mood to talk about it now, or anytime for that matter. He just wanted to stay quiet during the drive, but it seemed like that wasn't going to happen.

"Nothing? Really? Because it sure as hell didn't look like nothing, Dean!" Sam replied, shooting him a judging look and then shook his head. "I don't get it, Dean, Cas is our friend and he came for help, eventually at least, and you were willing to throw him out? All because he didn't tell you on the phone about the spear?"

"Yes, what about that spear? Apparently this thing could basically wipe out the world, if not the entire universe and Cas didn't think to mention this a little earlier? What is Gadreel planning to do with it anyway? If they had wanted to wipe out the world, I'm sure they would have sought for this weapon a long time ago", he changed the subject, of course knowing that Sam could see right through it, but to his relieve his brother went along with it.

"I don't know. If this weapon could wipe out the world, I'm sure it would have other uses as well, maybe some even more appealing to angels. Maybe they don't necessarily want to wipe out the world, but we do know many angels would still like to see the apocalypse happen, right? Maybe they want to try to use it to jailbreak into the pit?"

"That doesn't sound reassuring. Do you really think this weapon is powerful enough to open the cage?" The mere thought of it made Dean sick to his stomach and he really hoped his brother would withdraw his last statement.

"If this thing is powerful enough to sweep the universe clean, than I am pretty sure it is one of the few things that could actually open the cage".

"Great, so now Gadreel hasn't only gone AWOL, but is now armed and even more massively dangerous. Just what we needed… Any other, less depressing theories?"

"Well… We know of one other thing the angels want, to go back home…", Sam mooted and Dean strained his brain as he contemplated what his brother had just suggested.

"So instead of jail breaking the cage, they might want to jailbreak into heaven?"

"That might be another way to go, yes. Look, as long as we don't know all this weapon can do, we will not find out why the angels have retrieved it. I am just guessing here. All we really know is that powerful creatures are now in possession of a weapon even more powerful than themselves".

"Yes, I know…" Dean concurred as he felt his heart sink down to his shoes. This really wasn't a good thing, he thought, but at the moment there was nothing either one of them could do about it.

They turned onto the narrow road, leading to the small, but nevertheless cosy-looking house at the end where Eugene, his wife and two children lived.

"So where are we on the case?" Dean asked as he manoeuvred the car around the largest gaps in the dirt road. Even though his baby wasn't quite made for trips like these, Dean did very much enjoy the ride. A smile curled around his lips as he zigzagged his way toward the house.

"Eugene disappeared after his shift yesterday. When he still hadn't come home this morning, his wife reported him missing. They have been married for 12 years and have two children, an eight-year-old boy named Jaeden and a four-year-old boy named West. One big happy family".

Seriously? Jaeden and West?

"Well, maybe not all that happy, considering the perp's MO", Dean replied as he pulled up the driveway.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Jason Newsted and this is my partner Dave Mustaine, FBI. May we ask you a few questions regarding your husband's disappearance?", Sam said as a dark-haired woman opened the door. Dean recognized her to be Eugene's wife from the photo on his desk when they first went to Hell Half Acre's police station. She looked happy there, unlike now. Her eyes were swollen and her face was covered with red spots. She must have been crying for a long time, Dean thought as they were invited to come inside.<p>

The house was just as small on the inside as it had looked on the outside as they had been approaching. There was a small hallway when you came in, where most of the space was taken by an old-looking wooden stairs on the right-hand side. On the left there was a door leading to a tiny kitchen, where there was only room for one person to really move around in. The woman lead the two brothers into her living room, where her two children were silently sitting at a small wooden dinner table, drawing pictures of their family and some animals.

"So, mrs. Warrick, when last did you see your husband?", Dean asked politely as he sat down in the leather sofa, which looked far too big for the small living room it was standing in, and received a cup of freshly made coffee, for which he thanked the woman with a nod.

"Eugene…" she started, but didn't manage to say another word, for tears rolled down her rosy cheeks again and she took off to the kitchen. When she came back she held a piece of kitchen paper in her shaking hand. "I'm sorry, my husband left for work yesterday morning and when he didn't come home in the evening, I figured he was working late again. He has been taking on a lot of double shifts lately, money's tight these days, you know", she continued her story through her sniffles. Both brothers nodded to show their understanding of her situation.

"But then he still didn't come home the next morning, so I called the sheriff and when he told me Eugene left work early yesterday I filed a missing person's report. The sheriff was kind enough to take it this early on, you know, since you would usually have to wait at least twenty-four hours. With all the disappearances lately and of course because he knew Eugene, I am sure, the sheriff filed the report. Do you have any idea what happened to my husband?" the woman sniffed.

"We don't know yet, ma'am", Dean replied honestly, feeling sorry for the woman breaking down before him. "Is there anywhere he might have gone without letting you know?", Dean carefully suggested.

"I am not sure where you are getting at, agent… Mustaine was it?" she replied as her eyes widened.

"Would it be possible he was having an affair?" he clarified his previous question, but almost regretted asking soon after, as the woman glared at him, darkness filling her eyes.

"My husband and I were happily married. Yes, sure, we have our problems, who doesn't?! But cheating on me?! He would never, in this lifetime or the next, do such a thing! How dare you come in here accusing him of such an atrocity!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with anger.

"We're very sorry, ma'am", Sam intervened. "We have to ask, just to rule out certain scenarios", he continued as he handed her another tissue, for the one she was holding was now completely crumpled up.

"I'm sorry, it's just… It all seems so surreal. It's like Eugene could come home any minute, but then again you are sitting here asking all kinds of questions, which brings me right back to the realisation that he isn't going to walk through the front door", she cried, burying her face in the new tissue.

"Do you know of any place he might have gone otherwise?", Sam asked.

"Well, we own this little cabin down in the valley. It was his parents', but it was left to him when they passed away a few years ago. We don't go there very often, it is decayed and we have been planning to renovate it for the longest while, but haven't had the time for it yet. I couldn't really think of any reason why he would go there, but it's the only place I know of", she replied through her sobs.

"Where can we find this cabin?", Dean asked as he pulled a map out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Mrs. Warrick pointed out where the cabin was on it and they thanked the woman for her time, after reassuring her that they are doing everything they can to find her husband and left.

* * *

><p>The car wreck had been empty by the time he reached it and the surrounding area appeared desolate. The rain that had been pouring down heavily earlier that day, had now stopped and a chilly wind had picked up, which would make any other being shiver, but not him. His superiors had requested him to find out what was taking Ariel so long. All she had to do was apprehend Castiel and considering he was not at full capacity at this point, it should not be taking this long.<p>

At one time Castiel had been feared by men and angels alike, he knew. He had been dangerous, out for retribution, killing many of his brethren who had followed Raphael instead of him. Now however, after the fall, he was nowhere near as strong as he once was and it should be fairly easy to capture him, or so his superiors had told him.

This, however, seemed more difficult than they had anticipated, he thought, as he hovered over the dead bodies of Ariel and Zael, the angel blade still stuck in the latter's body. Castiel had definitely been here, but had somehow managed to defeat two full-strength angels and escape his fate once again. The mere thought of Castiel being stronger than expected made the angel nervous, for if he failed his quest, great misfortune would befall him.

First though, he had to find him, he thought as he searched for anything leading him to Castiel's current location. He was fairly certain the rain had washed away most traces and made tracking the angel down especially difficult. Nevertheless he found a blood trail in the muddy earth and on the unmoving solid rock, leading uphill, which he would not have been able to discover if he had been anything other than a celestial expert in tracking. He followed the blood trail and found it to be leading to an old motel at the end of the road. Castiel had to be there…

* * *

><p>Dean coughed as dust fluttered down when he opened the old dark wooden door of the indeed decayed little hunter's cabin where Mrs. (de vorm is correct, Mrs voor getrouwde vrouwen, maar het moet met een hoofdletter. Punt is optioneel, maar gebruikelijk in Brits Engels.) Warrick thought her husband might have gone. Ready with his gun in one hand and a flash light in the other, he stepped in carefully, even more alert since his brother had gone off to a higher plateau of rock where they had spotted a deserted police car when they had been scanning the area. The cabin was dark, shaded from any sunlight by the surrounding craggy walls, which was a bit of a shame, but at the same time it also protected the little unstable cabin from being destroyed by hard winds which were known to scourge the area a couple of times per year.<p>

When he checked every corner and behind every door – not that there were many – he flipped the light switch and heard the small generator at the back starting up before the lights started burning slowly. He tucked away his gun and flash light and looked around the living room, or whatever it was supposed to be. It had seemingly old furniture, a sofa with many holes in the fabric – cuts, scrapes and burns, a little saloon table and a dark wooden table with four chairs, half-eaten by termites. This whole place was one big fireplace, he thought as he noticed the little cabin even had a hearth. Judging by the charcoal inside and the smell coming from it, the fireplace had been used recently. The little saloon table was not standing in between the sofa and the hearth, where it obviously had been before for a long time, but it was strangely moved to the side where it looked oddly out of place. Instead of the saloon table there were blankets lying in front of the hearth. Cosy, Dean thought as he smirked, thinking of multiple scenario's where a guy ended up with a beautiful woman on a blanket in front of a burning fire.

He moved closer to investigate the oddly looking scene before him, when he noticed a heart-shaped little box on the floor, right in front of the sofa. He picked it up and realised it had contained bonbons. A valentine's gift maybe? He opened the box and saw there were still a few chocolates left inside. On the inside of the cover there was a picture with Eugene and a pretty petite blonde, which definitely wasn't the wife. So a cheat after all, he decided as he put the box back down on the floor.

It was clear Eugene wasn't here, or at least not any more. He turned the lights back off and left the cabin. Outside he looked up to the plateau where they had spotted the police car and wondered if Sam had found anything useful up there. He couldn't see neither his brother, nor the car from here. For a moment he thought of calling, but then decided to drive up there and walked over to the Impala.

* * *

><p>"So, the happily married couple wasn't so happily married after all", Dean said as he got out of the car and slammed the door shut. "Found a lovely Valentine's gift, box of chocolates with a picture inside of Eugene and his uhm… mistress", he chuckled.<p>

"So he does fit the pattern then", Sam concluded.

"Yes, it seems so. Anything up here?" Dean asked as he walked over to the edge of the plateau, looking out onto the dry, barren landscape before him.

"Well, I've found a couple of footprints, one which might be Eugene's judging by the size and shape. The other looks more like a woman's footsteps. They lead away from here, into the maze of stalagmites down there. 2X down in één zin. I followed it, but at the end of the tracks, nothing. Like whoever made those prints disappeared into thin air", Sam explained as he pointed towards the barren expanse before them.

"So nothing much to go on from here either then", Dean sighed.

"Well, not exactly. Look at that, don't you think that looks a little out of place around here? I mean, it's not really a lush vegetative area", Sam said as he nodded to something behind Dean. He turned to see what it was his little brother meant and found there to be a few little flowers growing in the middle of the dry ground the plateau consisted of.

"Yes, that does look a little weird. Any ideas as to what flower it is and what it is doing here?"

"No idea", his brother replied as he took a flower out of his pocket. "I'm not a botanist, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't belong here. We might want to check it out when we get back to the motel", Sam said as he gave him a pervasive look.

* * *

><p>"You know, Dean, Cas really didn't deserve that earlier". The first couple of minutes of the drive back to the motel they both had been quiet, but off course his little brother couldn't just get over it and had to bring that up again. Dean knew he was right though, he hadn't deserved it, but he wasn't quite ready to admit it.<p>

"He tried to help, he wants to find Gadreel just as bad as we do".

"Does he? Really? Because the last time I checked I was the one who got played. You have absolutely no idea how badly I want to find that son-of-a-bitch, and neither does Cas. If he feels the same way about finding him than he would have come to us for help", he snapped and felt the anger boiling up inside him again.

"He did, eventually".

"Too little, too late, Sammy. He should have come much earlier, shared his info much earlier and maybe we could've gotten the spear as well as Gadreel. Instead he went off on his own, 'trying to help'. He always tries to help and he always screws up!"

"Dean, we screw up things all the time and we deal with the consequences, just like we should do now. Cas needs our help. You saw him when he came to the motel. That wasn't normal. Something else is going on, even though he claims everything is fine. He's not fine and you know it as well as I do".

Dean knew his little brother was right at that too. Cas wasn't fine, not by far.

"Yeah, you're right. Can we just move on now?", Dean bit to his brother. He heard Sam sigh but ignored it. They had reached the motel and parked the car where they could have a good view on it from their motel room.

"Dean…"

"What?", Dean snapped as he turned to face his brother, who was looking out toward their motel room.

"I'm pretty sure we closed the door when we left".

The eldest gazed at their motel room and noticed what his younger brother was talking about. Their motel room door was open…

* * *

><p><em>AN: ...just not yet, as more trouble is about to come through ;-)._


	9. The Scottish Play

**The Scottish Play**

* * *

><p>"Castiel…", a low voice resounded in his head. His back was hurting from colliding with the hard wall of the motel room. The air had been pressed out of his lungs and he was only just beginning to catch his breath. He looked up at the figure standing before him. On the outside he looked like a regular middle-aged guy, light brown hair, small eyes, clean shaven. He was wearing a dark-green suit and brown shoes. On the outside indeed, he looked like an ordinary man, but Castiel could see through the façade.<p>

"Azrael…", he replied as he pushed himself up against the wall behind him. "I don't want to fight, but I will if I have to".

"I did not come to fight, Castiel. I need you to come with me", Azrael replied as he menacingly approached Cas.

Come with him? He didn't quite understand what the angel before him meant. Where would he want him to go to? How did he even find him? Did he come alone or were there more angels waiting to strike? His mind was racing, trying to process all the questions, but he couldn't find the answers. He had managed to heal all his previous wounds by now, but how long could he keep this up? At one point he wouldn't be able to heal himself in time and he would be killed. What if that time had come? Where were Sam and Dean? They had been out for hours. They would be able to help him, save him. But those thoughts were soon overshadowed by a surge of panic. Would they help him? He had screwed up again, he knew that. He could still feel the ice-cold glare Dean had shot him earlier that day and hear the rage in his voice echoing through his head.

_"__If you think you had no 'obligation' to tell us, then we certainly are under no obligation to help you. You know what, if you don't need our help, you can just go ahead and get out!"_

He had to fight this battle on his own. He had no one to fall back upon. Only when he wanted to draw his angel blade, did he realise he didn't have it with him. It must have gotten lost during the fight with Ariel, he thought as he tried to figure out what to do next. He was alone, unarmed…

"Why?" was the only reply he could think of at that moment.

"Why must you come with me? You should know better, Castiel. Angels do not question orders, we obey them. Our superior has commanded it", Azrael replied without moving a muscle in his face. Of course he had known the answer to that question. After all, free will wasn't something that could be taught to angels. He had learned that a long time ago already.

"Who is your superior?" he asked now filled with curiosity, another feeling alien to angels, he knew.

"My superior has always admired your fierceness and determination. How your garrison, against all odds, prevailed in the unwinnable battle. How your devotion and conviction inspired the small number of angels under your command and how they consequently triumphed".

For a moment the feeling of pride arose within him. Yes, Cas remembered that battle clearly. In his war against Raphael there had been many battles, where he had lost many of his subordinates, but this one they had won, like Azrael said, against all odds. They had been outnumbered by a few thousand angels, but they fought the battle to the bitter end, slaying most of their opponents and even managed to take some captive. It had only been a minor triumph, but it had inspired the angels under his command, filling them with renewed confidence in their sometimes seemingly futile mission.

"My superior proudly served under your command, Castiel. Therefore, he finds it unfortunate that this regrettable thing is now required of him", the angel continued.

"What regrettable thing? Who has sent you and to what end?" he replied, his voice lowering and his irritation level rising.

"Bartholomew".

Bartholomew, of course, he should have known. His brother had been a good soldier, until he tortured and killed their captives and afterwards made a reputation for himself. He had amassed a large following and Cas was sure he was keen on getting back into Heaven, whatever it took.

"I must ask you to come with me, Castiel", Azrael continued as he tightened his grip around the blade in his left hand.

"And if I refuse?" he asked his brother as he glanced around the room to find an exit route. He knew he played a dangerous game right now, but going with Azrael wasn't the best option he had, even though it may be the only one where he would be able to get out of his current situation alive.

"Then I am afraid we must do this the hard way", Azrael replied as he approached Cas threateningly, who felt panic arising inside of him as he backed up against the wall behind him.

* * *

><p>"Dean…", Sam said as he gazed toward their motel room through the side window of the car. The door was opened only slightly, but enough for the tall man to notice it from a distance.<p>

"What?", he heard the elder snap at him, but didn't turn around to face him.

"I'm pretty sure we closed the door when we left", he replied as an uneasy feeling arose in his stomach. Cas had been still pretty out of it when they had left this morning, no matter how much he claimed to be fine.

"Wishful thinking perhaps, but maybe Cas went out to get some groceries and forgot to close the door?" he heard Dean say and knew his brother was having the same feeling. They both got out of the car simultaneously and walked around to the trunk. Of course both of them always had their guns with extra magazines ready in case of emergencies, but considering what Cas had told them yesterday, carrying a few angel blades wouldn't hurt. Besides, their guns wouldn't be of any use then anyway. Just to be certain they also got the demon knife and some holy water out of the trunk.

As if nothing happened they moved towards the motel room as a well-oiled machine. Then again, they had done this so often, it came naturally to them, no matter what shit they were dealing with on the side.

Dean gestured the younger one to go in. Figuring they might be best off with the element of surprise, the younger one opened the door gently and moved in as quietly as possible, the eldest following right behind him, guns ready to fire in one hand, angel blades in the other.

Seeing the scene before him, Sam knew his gut feeling had been right, Cas definitely hadn't gone out for groceries. The angel lay limp against the back wall of the motel room, which had been severely cracked, most likely due to the impact with the angel. Sam wasn't sure whether the cracks were the result of an angel being thrown at it, or simply because these walls were made of cardboard. Their friend had visibly received a good beating, his nose and lip were bleeding and a dark bruise was surfacing on the left side of his face. The angel looked exhausted and terrified as another figure hovered over him, reaching out to grab him.

"Hey!", he heard Dean shout from the right corner of the room where he had manoeuvred to without a sound. It wasn't until then the other figure, most likely an angel judging by the blade in his hand, noticed their presence.

"Get your sorry ass away from him, you stupid son-of-a-bitch!" his brother exclaimed and for a brief moment Sam could've sworn he saw his brother's eyes turned black, before his attention got hauled away by the intruder.

"The Winchesters come to the rescue, as always", the figure spoke as he turned towards Dean. "Is this abomination really worth dying for?" he spoke as he advanced towards the older brother.

"Hell no!" he heard his brother reply and the darkness in his voice ran shivers down his back. His brother's voice sounded harsh and cold as ice. His glance moved from Dean towards Cas, who was still lying on the floor, great sadness in his eyes. He looked pale and weak, exhausted from all the fights he had to withstand. What the hell was wrong with Dean? He turned back towards his brother. He desperately wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. This was Cas they were talking about, for Christ's sake. Was he really that mad at him? Sure, he had made mistakes, but he was still their friend, hell, practically family!

"Why?" the figure asked in contemplation.

"Because he's family, that's why. He's like a brother to me, not like that means anything to you", Dean replied, his voice still fierce, but nowhere near as terrifying as he had just sounded. Confusion filled the hunter's mind as he processed the last words his brother had spoken. He must have misheard his brother's previous words, he concluded with relief. Of course his brother would do anything for the angel's well-being, as would he.

The figure moved swiftly towards Dean, who managed to avert the attack and slice through the assailant's skin with his angel blade. A bright light escaped from the wound in his arm. Definitely an angel, Sam thought as he advanced him from behind. The angel must have realised the younger brother was coming for him, for he turned around, flinging the hunter into the right wall. All the air was pressed from his lungs and the angel blade fell from his hands. The world turned black and for a moment he felt intense heat on his body, burning through his skin. His stomach was churning as he could smell the burning fires of hell.

"Sammy!", he could hear his brother scream from afar and he managed to open his, only to realise the angel was standing over him, ready to smite him. He rolled away from under the angel, grabbed his blade from the floor and got to his feet. The angel had now turned towards his brother, who managed to stab the angel once more in his shoulder. This obviously upset the celestial being, as he violently flung him onto the small dining table, causing it to tumble over. The angel walked over to Dean and kicked his blade away from him.

"You little protozoa are becoming quite irritable now", the angel spoke as he reached with his hand toward Dean's head. A surge of adrenalin rushed through Sam's veins as he watched the angel's hand get closer to his brother. He had to do something now, but would never be faster at killing the angel than the angel at killing his brother.

"Dean!" he exclaimed as he shove his own angel blade towards him. His brother immediately reacted and grabbed the blade, stabbing the angel before him. He had aimed for the chest, but the angel had pulled away and the dagger landed in his side. The bright light coming from the celestial being's vessel told the brothers the angel was badly injured though, but only moments after the light, and the angel it was coming from, disappeared.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked as he walked over to his brother and handed him his hand, pulling him up off the floor. He looked fine to him, so without waiting for a reply he turned to see Cas. "Cas, are you all right?"

"I'm fine", he replied as he tried to get up in vain. That angel was so friggin' stubborn, Sam thought as he watched him struggle, while his brother approached him.

"Cas, what the hell are you still doing here! I thought I told you earlier to get the fuck out!", Sam heard his brother yell at the with pain-crippled angel, who was still backed against the wall. The rage in his brother's voice caught him off guard and all he could do was stand there, stunned by the scene unfolding before him. Dean continued on, oblivious to what Sam was thinking.

"Don't need our help huh, _Castiel_? Thought you could handle this on your own? Yeah, you were doing a stellar job on your own, I could see that. Guess what, we had to save your ass. Again. The almighty angel, saved by a few protozoa", he mocked as he knelt down beside the angel. "All things considered, that dick we just ganked may have been right, you know. Why do we need to save your feathery butt time after all this time? It's not like we need to right? You can take care of yourself very well, you just showed us". Dean smirked, then dropped the mocking attitude. "Besides, now all we'll have to do is just wait for you to screw up once again, because that's what you do best, isn't it? You screw up and you betray us each and every single time you want to do the 'right' thing! In fact, maybe we should save those dicks the trouble and just kill you ourselves…" Dean spoke, his voice low and dangerous. For a moment Sam froze in disbelief as he watched Dean pick up an angel blade within reach, pressing the silver sharp end against Cas' throat.

"Dean?!" was all he could manage to speak. Cold fear ran through his body as he watched the sharp object in Dean's hand pressing into the angel's skin, a streak of blood running down from the cut it caused. He wasn't quite sure whether it was fear he saw in Cas' eyes or mere indifference. His eyes were mesmerizing and seemed to see right through you, but at times unable to read.

"Are you just going to stand there, beautiful?" Dean suddenly snapped at him and pulled his attention back to him. Sam startled and snapped his gaze back to his brother. Confused he looked at his brother, who was supporting Cas. The angel blade was on the floor, but it was in exactly the same spot as Sam had seen it before Dean had picked it up, or at least before he thought Dean had picked it up. "Go and get some cloth and water. There is an emergency kit in the cupboard under the bathroom sink".

What the hell was going on? Bewildered he watched his brother help Cas gently onto one of the beds, laying him down to rest. "Just take it easy, okay, buddy? We're gonna get you cleaned up", Dean reassured the angel as Sam walked into the small motel bathroom. There was only a tiny old sink with a small wooden cupboard underneath it. Most of the space was taken up by the sink's drain, but nicely tucked away in the corner of the little cabinet was a red box. Sam pulled it out of the cabinet and opened to see if this was indeed the emergency kit his brother had referred to.

_Hello, buddy-boy. What's up? Miss me?_

A familiar voice resounded in his head and his hands cramped around the little red box and his eyes squeezed tightly shut as an immense stinging headache overwhelmed him. The blood running through his veins seemed to have reached boiling temperature and he was overcome with terror.

_I, for one, have missed our little conversations._

No way this was real, Sam thought, as he tried to drown out the sound of the voice by covering his ears. Maybe he was just not getting enough sleep, or just simply losing his mind.

_No, really, Sam, I missed you._

How could this even be remotely possible? Cas had cured him. He had solved this.

_That silly little angel. Do you really think he would be able to fix your brain? Demolish, yes, he did that very well, didn't he? I must say that was a brilliant move. But fixing it? No, buddy-boy, that is way out of his league. It has been fun, however, watching you believe he was your great saviour. _

Sam crawled into the bathroom corner in agony. Why now? Why hadn't this happened sooner? No, he was just imagining it, this wasn't real. He just needed more sleep than he had been getting for the past few days.

_Who are you kidding anyway? You have done with less sleep and everything has been just fine, or well, you believed everything was fine._

The stinging headache now spread out throughout the rest of his body, making it feel like it was on fire, his heart racing and blackness surrounding him. No matter how much he tried to reason, he couldn't make sense of it all.

_Sammy…_

"Sammy!" his brother's voice drew him back to reality. The burning pain faded away and he heard nothing but the sound of his heart still pounding in his chest. "What the fuck is taking so long!"

"Sorry, it was stuck at the back of the cupboard", he apologised as he walked out of the bathroom and laid the box opened on the bed next to Cas' limp body.

"Sam, Dean, I'm fine, I just…need some rest", Cas spoke rather weakly.

"You're not fine. Just look at yourself, man, you're completely worn out. What's the matter with that? You used to be able to withstand an attack from a single angel, strong angels, this one wasn't even that strong", Dean replied to the angel's unconvincing statement as he got some tissues from the emergency kit and reached out to his head to clean of the blood dripping from the wounds, most likely inflicted by an angel blade.

"It's nothing, I'm fine, I'm just tired".

"That's bull, Cas, and you know it".

"Look, Cas, we just want to help you, but you need to let us", Sam jumped in the conversation and saw the puzzledness in the angel's eyes as he did so.

"This morning…" the angel started, but Dean wouldn't let him continue that sentence.

"You should know better, Cas, you're family. Families fight, but still stand by each other", he interrupted, but didn't stop cleaning him up. Sam knew this was Dean's way of apologizing, but wasn't sure whether Cas would pick this up as such. He didn't say anything about it further though, which may actually be for the best. Sam walked around the bed and sat down on the other side.

"It's my grace…", Cas started. "It has weakened. It was never as strong as my own, but every time it gets a blow, it weakens and I seem to be unable to properly heal myself", he explained while Dean got some water for him to drink. I really just need some rest, time to heal, but I don't really seem to get a chance and it takes longer every time", he continued as he took the glass that Dean handed him. He took a few sips of the water but seemed somewhat dissatisfied.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, concern resounding in his voice.

"Water tasted better as a human…" Cas replied. Sam watched the angel gently putting down the glass on the bedside table and repositioning himself on the bed. His face had gotten quite pale, Sam noticed and he could clearly see his hands were trembling when he had reached to put down the glass. Water had nearly spilled over the edge.

"Just take some time to rest and heal yourself", Sam tried to reassure the angel. "We'll watch over you", he said and realised it might have sounded a little weird when he saw the look his brother shot him. It didn't matter though, as their friend seemed to relax a little at the kind words.

_You guys watch over him? This just keeps getting better! I just love how you give some sort of meaning to this charade I have created. _

"Thank you, Sam", Castiel replied. "That is so very kind of you, I've really missed that", he continued as a slasher grin curled around his lips. "I'm really glad you are starting to see through this charade".

"Cas?" he asked uncertainly as his mind became more and more puzzled.

"Guess again, buddy-boy", the figure before him grinned as it slowly shifted his shape. Where his friend had sat only seconds ago, the frightening figure he thought had left his mind had taken his place. In terror he shut his eyes, silently begging for this to be untrue. "No…no…" he whispered as he moved off the bed, making his way backwards along the motel room wall.

"Yes! Yes!", he heard the familiar voice exuberantly exclaiming, as anguish was now taking a hold of him. This couldn't be real, he had to be hallucinating or something.

"D-Dean?" he turned to see his brother still sitting on the bed, facing the angel. "Dean, something is wrong with me, I'm not…" he started as his brother turned his head around towards him.

"What?!" he viciously snapped as his eyes turned black as night, sending shivers down the younger brother's spine. His heart rate was now as high as it has ever been, his breathing superficial and accelerating, causing his head to start spinning. He then hit the back wall of the motel room with his left shoulder, realising he was cornered. He tried to crawl further into the corner anyway as he watched his greatest nightmare becoming reality. The angel had gotten up off the bed and was now approaching him threateningly, Dean following closely behind…


End file.
